Walking On Air
by Rogue137
Summary: When you thought it was all a dream, it comes back to haunt you and your children. History repeats itself, secrets are retold, and shattered hearts must be mended.
1. Atypical Morning

**Summary:** The daughter of Helena is transported into her mother's creation after the White Queen dies and Helena is taken captive by Anti-Helena, the new Dark Queen. Along with a few old friends, and some new ones, Hermia must not only find a way to save her mother, but she also struggles to reconcile with her mother's unfinished business.

**Disclaimer: **Bloody hell, man. I don't own MirrorMask. I only own Hermia, Barnaby, and the very nice plot I created here. (winks)

_**Walking On Air:**_

_Chapter One_

_It smelled like cotton candy. _

_Not the kind you buy in those pastel-colored plastic bags at the corner market; the homespun, carnival kind that feels like sweet clouds melting on your tongue. The kind Carl made especially for opening nights. He spun the best cotton candy._

_At first I was afraid as the irritating clicking of the clocks sped like the pounding of my heart, and those dolls slowly immerged from their boxes. But then the most beautiful music began. It felt like a lullaby; sweet and gentle like the hands that stroked my face and arms and hair. My fears were stripped away like bags of sand that were weighing me down. Every thought, from my dying mother, to the MirrorMask, to Valentine…_

Valentine, you spineless, cake-hogging coward…

_Warmth blossomed in my body, spreading to the tips of my fingers and toes. I floated in the embrace that clothed me in black silk and gossamer. The haunting voices carried me away to a grey, desolate land where I felt nothing but absolute, undiscriminating calm._

_An angel's wing brushed my lips and eyes. My face was beginning to feel numb, constricting, like the muscles were becoming useless, less flexible. But I didn't worry. With those heavenly songs, what ever did I have to worry about? My bones felt like liquid gold, and with every breath I took I tasted Carl's cotton candy. My mind swirled in an enchanted dance, slow and mesmerizing. _

_And then it stopped. I opened my eyes. Everything was brighter, sharper, and more real-looking. I felt solid. I felt at home._

_A slow, lazy smile lightly pulled my lips upward._

I rolled over on my stomach with a grunt as my fist landed on the "snooze button". I always forgot to turn it off on weekends. Sighing, I snuggled deeper under my quilt, trying to catch whatever remnant of the clock room that remained in that place between sleeping and waking. But it was too late, I couldn't go back to sleep; I couldn't go back to my strange, lovely dreams.

Dragging myself out of bed, I blearily walked to the tiny kitchen. My parents were still sleeping. Some people might have been uncomfortable with living with their parents until they were nineteen and five months old, but I didn't mind. It was too expensive to get another trailer, and I didn't want to be anywhere but my family's circus. Now that Gran was dead, my grandfather had handed over his beloved circus to his daughter and her husband.

Dad always told me that the circus ran in my blood, so it was only natural that I would follow in Mum's footsteps and stay even after I turned 18. However, for some reason I could never get the hold of juggling. I'm alright at it, I suppose, but my true calling is high above the center ring. Ever since I was a little girl, I was fascinated watching the lithe rope-walkers confidently strolling across a thin strip of wire nearly two stories above the ground. After years of practice, I still had that fantastic thrill as I stepped onto that same wire, my arms spread for balance as I walked on air. Unlike my mother, I loved being the center of attention. I am hard-headedly independent, even after I outgrew my rebellious teenage years.

I opened the fridge and took out a Tupperware container of leftover lasagna. A note with Mum's quirky handwriting told the reader, "Hermia: Remember what your mother told you." I rolled my eyes with a smile. She was always telling me not to eat leftovers for breakfast. Ignoring the note, I took it off the plastic container and stuck it in the microwave. As I sat down at the little table under the window of our trailer, I watched the pretty crescent moon clock that hung over the oven. It was already eight-thirty. Mum was usually already up and moving by this time, Saturdays included, doing some thing or another. Usually sketching or absentmindedly juggling oranges as she got water boiling for tea.

My mind drifted back to the dream I had. It was a very odd dream. I was in it, but somehow I knew it wasn't me who was thinking the thoughts and feeling the feelings. I knew it was someone else.

_I love dreams like that,_ I thought as I ate my slightly rubbery lasagna. _So uncompromising. _

I often had strange dreams like those nowadays; dreams that weren't quite dreams. They were something different, but something just as intangible. Sometimes they were about the circus, sometimes about Gran with her white hair before she died, and, more often than not, they were about a strange and wonderful world that resembled my mum's drawings.

_I'll ask Mum about them when she gets up. She always has some interesting explanation for dreams._

I put my dishes away in the sink and went to the den to watch TV. After an hour, however, I began to wonder where Mum was. Getting up, I headed toward my parents bedroom. I raised my hand to knock on the door.

Almost simultaneously, the door was thrown open by my father, alarming me. His eyes were wild, panicky. He grabbed me by my shoulders.

"Hermia, have you seen your mother?" he asked, shaking me a little. His tone of voice frightened me.

"N-no, Dad," I stuttered, eyes wide. "Why are you like this? Maybe she went to the store or something."

"No….no, no, no," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes screwed shut for a few agonizing seconds.

"Dad, what the bloody hell happened?" I said, my voice becoming panicked.

"Helena…she—she j-just disappeared into thin air," he blurted, running his hand through his hair. I was struck dumb for a moment

"She _what_?" I asked, astonished.

"Disappeared! Vanished! She was right there, beside her little wall of drawings, and the next thing I knew, I turned around and she was gone!"

"Alright, Dad, calm down. She can't've just disappeared," I said. "Go call some friends, see if she might have gone to see them." He looked like he was about to argue, but turned and headed to the kitchen, muttering hysterically. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, trying to calm my racing heart. I then turned to my parents' room. Walking inside, I immediately looked at the window. It was locked, that's for sure. But why the hell would Mum try to get out the window in the first place, anyway?

She probably just had some crazy whim to impromptu visit the Alsworthys or something. It happens.

_She was right there, beside her little wall of drawings…_

My eyes were slowly drawn to my mum's wall of art. She was an amazing artist. When I was a little girl I loved to sit on the ground and just stare at her pictures. I even tried to copy her style when I was older. But, I was no artist. I was an actress. Nevertheless, I still loved staring at her drawings. My personal favorites were the ones with the flying books and the infinite assortment of buildings. There was always one that stood out, though; an old, faded one of a masked man Mum named Valentine. His mask looked childishly drawn, the face itself like a spiked block, and the eyes only pinpricks. But it was his smirk, and the way he held his hands as he crouched against a wall, that intrigued me. Every time I looked at it, I couldn't help but to allow my own smirk to pull up and mirror his.

I scanned the rest of the wall, looking for something, but not knowing what. I had this uncomfortable tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the time my dad tricked me into eating haggis. My eyes suddenly landed on a drawing in the shadowed corner. I looked closer. It was a drawing of a window, or a mirror, allowing the viewer to see the asymmetrical street within, or without. Or something…

Something moved within the room. My arms froze, and my breath caught in my throat. After blinking furiously, I looked harder, my eyes straining to make sure I wasn't going mad.

There! In the corner, there was a movement of cloth, barely perceptible. I moved closer.

"Hey!" I said, not really thinking about what I was doing. "Is someone in there?!"

The movement stopped. Right about convinced that I was just seeing things, I sighed and began to move away. Just then, however, a face appeared in the window. It was colored, unlike the black and white sketch. I stumbled back. The mouth on the face moved. I didn't hear, so I moved closer. The person in the window was wearing a mask.

"What?" I asked, my shocked voice barely above a whisper. The man said something, but his voice was muted. I shrugged uncomprehendingly. He then pointed urgently to what looked like my parents' bed. I stared at the bed behind me, and then back at the little man in confusion. He raised a finger and exited the frame for a moment. After a few seconds (during which I caught myself looking over my shoulder, just waiting for my dad to come in), he came back with a large piece of paper. The tiny writing said "Find the mask." My mind reeled for a second. The mask? There were a good twenty masks in my parents' room alone, let alone the whole house!

_What mask?_ I mouthed, over exaggerating the movements. The man ducked down again and came back up.

_MirrorMask._

Oh. _That_ mask. Mum used to tell me stories about the MirrorMask. But…they were just—

I stopped in the middle of my thought. I was talking to some bloke in my mum's sketch. This isn't just a story anymore. I gritted my teeth and nodded at said bloke before I turned away and surveyed the room. If I was Mum, where would I hide a mask?

I started off looking in the closet, moving cluttered shoes and old costumes. I found a few masks, but nothing that would be a "MirrorMask". I scoured the room, looking through bins and drawers and cabinets in the bathroom. Nothing.

But then…then something drew me to the small vanity in the other corner of the room. I sat on the worn, rickety chair and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked a bit like Mum, but everyone told me I resembled my angular-featured grandfather best. Light brown hair and hazel eyes. In my musings, however, the dawning of realization came upon me.

_Where better to hide a MirrorMask…than a mirror?_

I lightly touched the mirror. A queer little hum rumbled under my fingers. I drew my hand back, eyebrows rising in surprise. Hesitating for a second more, I touched the mirror again, pushing. The humming was still there, but nothing else happened. I let out a breath. Thinking for a second, and looking into my own eyes, I could swear I saw the outline of another face in the mirror, the eyeholes encircling the reflection of my eyes. Almost out of instinct, I slowly moved forward. As my nose touched the glass, something enveloped it. Resisting the urge to jerk away, I closed my eyes and pushed my face forward, into the mirror. I felt a mask, humming with energy, attach itself to my face. I pulled back quickly, astonished with what I just did. I looked in the mirror. Two blue eyes stared at me from behind a glimmering, silvery mask

I took of the mask with shaking hands and went back to the drawing. The little man was still there, but he looked even more urgent than before.

"What do you want me to do now?" I asked him, forgetting that he probably couldn't hear me. Either way, he understood me somehow and made a motion like he was putting something on his face. Slowly, I understood his intent and placed the MirrorMask on my face. "Now what?"

He beckoned with his hand.

"_What?_"

He beckoned me again. I took a step back.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered in disbelief. _Come on,_ the man urged. I looked over my shoulder to make sure my dad wasn't coming in. I turned back to the drawing of window. "Alright…" I took a tentative step forward. And then another. My face was an inch away from the drawing now. The Mask seemed to vibrate more intensely.

I took a breath, as if about to jump off a very high cliff into the churning water below, closed my eyes, and allowed gravity to pull myself forward.

I kept going.

You know that feeling you get when you're going down a dark staircase, and there is one more step then you thought there was, and when you step down, there's this sickening feeling of falling until your foot hits solid ground? That's exactly how it felt.

As soon as my feet hit solid ground, and then my legs buckled, I still couldn't open my eyes even as the Mask dropped from my face. I had to keep myself from retching until the nausea left me. Faintly, I heard footsteps approach.

"Are you alright, milady?" an unknown voice asked. I took a few more deep breaths.

"Ask me again in a minute," I rasped. Another set of footsteps approached, and stopped.

"What's this, Barnaby? Found yourself another friend falling from the sky?" a startling familiar voice chuckled above her. "Remember what happened to the last one…"

"I do believe this one is a little more substantial than _he_ was, Valentine," the first voice retorted as my head jerked up.

"Prettier, too," Valentine replied rakishly, winking at me. I was too much in shock to reply.

I wasn't imagining things. There he was. The masked man on the wall. Mischievous smirk, childish mask, white ratty rope; the whole package.

_And he sounds exactly like Dad. _

**Author's Note**: I totally need to buy this movie.


	2. Divided Thoughts

**Reviewers: **

HellionKyou – Don't worry, I'm going to try to update at least twice every week. They'll be short chapters, but at least you'll get your fill of MirrorMask. :)

Ayeala50 – I totally, like, know you. XD Thanks for reviewing! You gets a cookie!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own MirrorMask or Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Yes, I said Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. See if you can catch the reference.

_**Walking On Air:**_

_Chapter Two_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Look Val, I need to get the White Queen's granddaughter to the Palace as soon as possible. With the Creator disappearing, we need someone to fix things," Barnaby said, helping me up.

"_The White Queen's granddaughter?_" Valentine and I chorused. Valentine spoke quickly and rationally, but somehow I could tell he was about as panicked as I was.

"Wait a minute. Helena...disappeared?" Valentine said.

"'S not my fault you don't read the papers," Barnaby scoffed. "Anyway, the Prime Minister told me to bring Lady Hermia to the Palace as soon as possible." Before Valentine could question further, he turned toward the street, put two fingers in his mouth, and whistled.

Well, it looked like he whistled, but no sound came out. He looked funny there like that, blowing silently like there was no tomorrow.

But then something started coming down the cobbled street. It was an undefined shape, and it would have been impossible to identify until it came into full view.

"Inconceivable..." I breathed as the extraordinary contraption came stumbling toward the three of us.

It looked like a washing machine on stubby armchair-legs, with a giant can-opener for a propeller and a steering device. I didn't have much time to marvel at this strange world I suddenly landed in, because Barnaby decided I was incapable of safely boarding the dream craft; therefore unceremoniously picking me up and placing me on top of the washer. Barnaby then boarded the small platform behind it, next to the can-opener.

"Go back to your tower, Valentine," Barnaby told him absently. "I heard she's got a bone to pick with you."

"That's exactly why I'm _not_ going. Besides, I'm Helena's manager! I have the right to get this sort of information straight from the Minister's mouth!" Valentine exclaimed as Barnaby cranked up the...er..."propeller", and the machine began to move. Letting out an agitated cry, Valentine grabbed a hold of the machine and swung himself up next to me. Turning around to shoot a glare at Barnaby (or something; I couldn't exactly see his eyes), Valentine started to demand answers. Barnaby ignored him and pressed the bottle cap-opener. A loud POP preceded the sudden, frightening burst of speed. My mouth opened in a scream, but the wind was already knocked out of me. Blurred buildings, creatures, and fish zipped by, and the colors of Mum's world flashed like a light show.

I thought I heard Valentine speak to me, but his words were washed away by the howling wind in my ears. My eyes were shut tight, but tears were still being pulled from my dry eyes. My fingers began to cramp with the force of my grip on the white metal of the machine.

Then, as suddenly as it happened, it stopped. My hair, which had been tied back in a purple scrunchie, was now a mass of wind-blown tangle tickling my face; the scrunchie desperately hanging in a knot of hair. I let out a groan.

Those annoying, nagging questionings in the back of my mind threatened to bombard me into hysterics, and I tried hard to keep them at bay. God, I was going to need a good few hours to sort this all out.

So, with my nerves on edge, I jumped off of the washer-car. Another strange, asymmetrical building loomed in front of me; stairs leading to a pair of huge, ornate doors. An aging man stood at the front. He looked awfully familiar...

Bloody hell, this was getting weirder and weirder. A hand grasped my shoulder and pulled me forward toward the man on the steps.

_Probably that Prime Minister bloke Barnaby went on about,_ I thought, trying to place the familiar masked face somewhere. I took Barnaby's hand off my shoulder. I wasn't a prisoner or anything.

"I've brought you the Creator's daughter, as you requested, Prime Minister," Barnaby said.

"Only because I'd like a few questions answered," I muttered sourly, trying to smooth back my flyaway hair.

"Your questions will be answered in time, my dear. I understand how strange all of this must be for you. Your mother was the same, and _she_ was the one who created the world."

"You knew my mother?" I asked dumbly. The Prime Minister smiled and nodded.

"Better than you might expect," he said. His voice...I've heard it somewhere. I knew I did, but my memories seemed as scattered as my nerves at the moment.

"I knew your mum, too," Valentine suddenly inserted. "Seems she hasn't changed a bit; disappearing without saying goodbye." He was smirking playfully, but the way he emphasized "disappearing" indicated that there was a little more than tea and cakes behind that mask.

Before I could decipher Valentine's statement, the Prime Minister took my hand and gently led me up the stairs. I looked over my shoulder at the two men who had brought me here. Valentine stared at me oddly.

"See you later, missy," he said before jumping onto Barnaby's strange contraption and cranking it up. Barnaby yelled something at him and was able to push Valentine off before he could hijack it. Valentine just laughed and grabbed a knob of the washer before it took off again. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, trying to clear my mind. Of course, it didn't work, so instead I opened my eyes and followed the Prime Minister into the Palace.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"The bloody Creator's _daughter?_

"I'm usually not too surprised by things most of the time. I'm a Valentine, after all. Of course, I didn't recognize her. She didn't look a thing like Helena. She looked—of all people—like the Prime Minister! What's more, she was Helena's bloody _daughter!_ How many bloody years have passed since she went back to her world?

"I know I haven't changed a bit. I would've known. I've looked in plenty of mirrors. I have to admit, I wondered at the fact that the Queen and Prime Minister began to age while the rest of us stayed the same, looked the same. Well, most of us. That old bat from the Mask Shop died a few years ago. But still I wondered…

"How does that work, may I ask you? What was Helena playing at, ignoring the characters of her world? Why did she only pay attention to the 'important people'? I told her again and again _I _was an important man! I helped her save the world, didn't I? Didn't I?"

The pig-masked bartender just stared at me uncomprehendingly. I sighed.

"Just get me a strong mint tea," I told him, waving him off. "Oh, and a piece of ham or two." The bartender glared at me, offended as ever, to my personal delight. I ignored him and tilted my head back, staring at the napkins fluttering near the ceiling. Paper. You put some words on it, and suddenly it thinks that it is unique and special and then it flies off. _A lot like towers, actually_, I thought thoughtfully as my hand curled around the steamy mug that the man slammed down in front of me, splattering some of the tea on the table.

If he could see my eyes, I would have rolled them. I then shuddered at the thought. Moving eyes? Ech.

The thought of movable faces turned my thoughts back to Helena and her…daughter. How old was Helena when she last dropped by? She couldn't've been more than seventeen. Her daughter was well near _my_ age…or whatever age Helena had cared to stick on me; I'd say I'd look around early twenties either way.

Helena's daughter (_what was her name again?_) looked nothing like her mother at any rate, other than that disgusting habit of face-morphing. Instead of those big brown, puppy-dog eyes, she had narrow hazel ones, and her nose and face was longer. She had longer, lighter colored hair than Helena, but it was nearly the same kind of texture; straight and wispy and all that.

_Not to mention she didn't have rabbits for shoes_. Another shudder went up my spine. No. At least Helena's daughter had the decency to go barefoot instead.

I downed my tea and scarffed down the turkey slices I was given. I had to get back to the Palace and find out what the hell was going on.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The Prime Minister led me through long, golden halls. He didn't speak to me as we walked. I was glad for it regardless; I needed some time to think.

Alright. So I was in my mother's art world. I was wearing my pajamas, and I just rode a washing machine. Is that really so crazy?

_Ach. Who am I kidding? Of course it's crazy! I'm probably still dreaming,_ I thought sullenly._ Mum always told me to be wary of false awakenings. _

Suddenly a wave of homesickness came over me. For the first time since I was eight, I wanted my mum here with me, to stroke my hair and assure me there were no monsters under my bed. But she wasn't here. She was either asleep as well, or had disappeared without any warning. With this thought, I instantly pinched myself to wake up. Nothing happened. I pinched harder.

"Ouch!" I sharply drew in a breath. The Prime Minister looked over at me, giving me a funny look. _At least I could see _his_ eyes._ I smiled weakly at him. "I'm fine," I told him. He smiled back and turned to look forward once more.

Okay, so I wasn't dreaming. That certainly wasn't a happy fact. So, how did it come to this? Why was I so important? Where had Mum gone? Why did the Prime Minister and Valentine's voices sound so familiar? How is Dad going to react when he finds I disappeared right after Mum?

I sighed. At least I knew the answer to the last question.

Finally we stopped in front of another set of doors. They opened by some unheard command. Inside was some of the strangest furniture I've ever seen. Everything was…halved. The chairs, the clocks, the desk; everything was cut in half. Even the wallpaper was bisected; half was light gold with purple flowers, and the other half was whitewashed.

"Please, sit," the Prime Minister told me, offering a divided armchair. The other half seemed to be what the Prime Minister himself sat on. He moved aside two halves of a pencil, and a few pieces of paper to the edge (or would it be the center?) of the table. I obliged and sat.

"Where is my mother?" I asked before he got too situated. He sighed and looked up from his hands organizing the desk.

"We're not sure," he said softly. "We suppose the Dark Queen has taken her. Now that the White Queen is dead, there is no one left to keep the Dark from taking over. The Creator was supposed to make a new Queen, but now that the Princess has seized the Dark Lands, she did not want any one else to contend with her. I suspect she took your mother to keep her from replacing her." I ground my teeth in worry.

"Then why am I here?" I finally said, my knuckles turning white from the way I gripped the chair's one armrest.

"Because you are the Creator's daughter. You are the only one who can find her, the only one who can challenge the new Dark Queen now that Helena is gone," he said with such a note of finality that felt like it reverberated throughout the room. There was silence for a good long while.

"This isn't _my_ world," I rasped, dread creeping up my spine. "I don't know anything about it, I don't know how anything works, I—"

"Yes you do. Your mother told you stories of her world ever since you were very young," the Prime Minister said resolutely. "You can find your mother. The White Queen was able to find her in her dreams; I'm sure Creator and Creator's daughter can find a way to contact one another."

"But—"

"Enough, love," he said kindly, but firmly. "There is not much time. The Shadow is coming again. You must find the Creator before it is too late." I stood up from my chair, my hands clenched by my side.

"You can't possible expect me to do this alone," I said through gritted teeth.

"I don't," said the Prime Minister. "That is why I advise you to visit the Library before anything else."

The Library. I remember that drawing clearly. It was one of my favorite sketches, with all those fluttering books. And I was fairly sure I knew how to get to it.

I said my good-byes and was escorted out the gates, back onto the street. Gazing up at the Palace, I marveled on how Mum was able to conceive such a beautiful place…

"I knew I'd find you eventually!"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note: **This was kind of a "filler chapter", as it were. I promise it'll get more interesting later, though!


	3. A View of the Situation

**Reviewers:**

Blackwolf15—WATCH THE MOVIE! Seriously, don't read any more til you get the movie. (gives another cookie)

Dylan—Valentine is going to have a little less screen time at first, to tell the truth. As the story rolls along (and once I get the damned DVD) I'll get into his mind more.

HellionKyou—Thanks for reviewing again! You get kudos. And…ahh…If you happen to know any other MirrorMask luvers, I'd be very grateful if you could hint your way into my fic's direction. ;)

**Disclaimer: **Oooooh, what's this? It's a DISCLAIMER, fuckers. Now get off my goddamn back. (glares at lawyers)

_**Walking On Air**_

_Chapter Three_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was then, turning around and looking at Valentine, and the street behind him, that the situation truly hit me.

I am in the middle of a dream world; my_ mum's_ dream world.

It's up to me to save this world.

And there are _fish_ swimming in the air.

Everything was all…flickery, like an old film filter had been placed in front of my eyes. Or maybe you could compare it to a flame that lit up the entire city, and it sputtered every once in a while. It was darker, too, than most of my mum's colored drawings. Like a shadow had fallen over it since the Queen died.

Since Gran died…

"'Ello! You still here?" Valentine's voice broke through my musings. Blinking a few times, I looked back at him.

"Yeah, unfortunately," I told him, going around him and looking down the wispy street to see if I could recognize where I was. "Why didn't I study Mum's maps a bit more than the flying books?" I muttered.

"You know, I'd know where ever you wanted to go if you told me," Valentine said in a very nonchalant way that indicated he wanted to follow me. "Unless you wanted to go somewhere that I didn't know about."

"Well, obviously," I said brusquely, because an image that fit the street had just flashed in my mind, and I didn't want to lose it. I had the drawing of the street right in my mind…and then a building got up and moved, revealing another road and pulling away my vision. I groaned.

"Alright, since I don't know how on Earth I am going to remember Mum's drawings with a bunch of buildings moving this way and that," I said exasperatedly. It was dreamy enough with the rest of the distractions, like the ever-changing flow of the air and the masked inhabitants walking, rolling, and sliding down the street. "I guess you can help. I suppose _you_ know where the Library is?"

"Of course!" Valentine said, spreading his hands imploringly. "I wouldn't be a Valentine if I didn't."

"And why is that?" I asked dryly.

"Valentines never forget anything," he said in a matter-of-fact sort of way, casually taking a few balls out of his pocket and throwing them into the air.

"Shall we get going then?"

"Sure…going where?"

I rolled my eyes, an act that invoked a sound of disgust from Valentine.

"Don't _do_ that! Ugh, do you people not realize how…_disturbing_ that is?" he asked, his mouth pinched in revulsion. It was interesting; even though half of his face was hidden behind a mask and the other half by paint, Valentine had this wonderful ability to express himself perfectly with his mouth and body movements. A small smile pulled at my lips.

"I'll refrain from it," I said sardonically. "C'mon, let's see what the Library has in store for us." I didn't expect we'd find anything useful; maybe a map or something. I snatched a glimpse of my traveling mate, busily entertaining himself with tossing the balls in the air. I had a feeling Valentine wasn't exactly a tour guide.

"What'd you say your name was?" Valentine asked as he led the way down the cobbled street, juggling as he went. I sidestepped a bizarre creature pushing a cart full of alien-looking metal contraptions.

"I didn't."

"Then what _is_ your name?" he asked, undaunted.

"Hermia," I told him, watching the balls as he threw them up, the colors flashing orange and white, like those bouncing balls you get in vending machines for ten pence. He was fantastic, so easy while performing; just like Mum and Dad.

Dad. Why did he sound like Dad? Did he only sound like him in my mind because I missed him? Or was he some character based on my father when he first met Mum? That's not much of a stretch.

But Valentine was nothing like Dad other than their voices, from what I gathered so far. Dad was very light-humored, fatherly and mature and all that. Valentine was…well, to tell the truth, I'm not sure what he is. On the surface, yeah, he could be like Dad, but there was something completely different about him (other than age of course) that I couldn't put my finger on.

Something orange flew at my face. Letting out a yell, I raised my hands to protect myself. The thing lightly bounced off of the heel of my hand.

"What was that for?" I demanded.

"They're for catching, you know," Valentine said simply, his demeanor curious, and a little confused. I picked the ball up and tossed it back at him.

"I would have if you hadn't chucked it at me," I retorted. He just shrugged and lobbed it to me again. I caught it this time. It was warm; probably from being in his hands or his pocket all the time. Valentine started juggling again, but now he was watching me expectantly. A small part of me grimaced. I wasn't superb at juggling, and he was obviously waiting for me to jump in. Knowing my mother, he was probably thinking _she_ never passed up the chance to juggle with someone, even if she was stuck in the middle of a dream world. I, on the other hand, doubled up only when I absolutely had to. More than a few embarrassing accidents have been caused by my lack of hand-eye coordination.

Nevertheless, I was too proud to turn yellow in front of a stranger, especially one who knew my mother and expected me to have inherited that kind of enthusiasm and talent. So I pitched it. He tossed me another. I tried to keep the rhythm, counting under my breath like Dad had taught me how to do. But it was getting harder now that we had continued walking.

"Why are we going to the Library anyway?" Valentine asked casually even as I desperately tried to keep the pace. Oh, how I envied him.

"Erm…to, ah…find _help,_" I replied haltingly, almost dropping one. Seeing through my _well_ kept illusion of ease, Valentine grinned and stopped throwing.

"You're not like your mum, are you?"

"You mean I can't juggle? Then yes, I suppose I'm not," I said sarcastically, my stress finally breaking loose from its tight cage in my chest. I wished I had a mask. At least it could cover my frustrated blush.

"Well, you _can_ juggle, it's just that you can't juggle _well_," he explained.

"Thanks for the newsflash. Of course I'm not an adept like _both_ of my parents. I guess I lucked out in _that _end of the gene pool," I said, fretfully rolling the one ball I had around in my hands. Every breath I took seemed heavy, too much like being asleep. I don't know what's going on, and my obsessive-compulsive need to understand my situation was squeezing that same breath from my chest.

"A lot of people still can't juggle that well," Valentine said awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable with my sudden nervous silence. I didn't reply; I just tossed the ball from hand to hand for a bit, looking out over the edge of the bridge we had stopped on. Figures moved beneath us in the water-like substance, and the fog that seemed to be everywhere hid the destination of the river. My eyes took notice of the metal railing that bordered the bridge. Needing a way to calm myself down, I jumped, as nimbly as a cat, onto it. It was an easy eight centimeters across, and I quickly found my center of gravity. I then threw the ball to Valentine.

"I prefer being higher on stage anyway," I said quietly before I tested my balance with a few jumps. Mom enrolled me in a small gymnastics class when I was six, when I began vehemently expressing my interest in tight-rope walking. The balance beam, of course, was my first love. Over the years I honed the skills needed for my initial goal; being able to dance, freehanded, on the wires above center ring. Granted, the wire stretched across was only about ten or so feet from the ground—not at all too amazing. But it still gave me a rush.

As I lost myself in the feeling of weightlessness, I began to imagine myself at the circus, looking down on the upturned faces of the captivated crowd. The violins were playing a slow, haunting tune, a tune that took the listener to a world of oddities and dreams.

"Have you ever looked down from a skyscraper and felt like you were floating?" I heard myself mimic my grandfather's booming ringmaster's voice. "Imagine that, but in place of a skyscraper underneath your feet, you are looking down…from a wire with only 3 centimeters of width!" I spun and landed without wavering. "Ladies and gentlemen, meet the fearless woman who walks on air—Hermia Beckham!"

I smoothly swung my weight up into a handstand, my fingers gripping the edge of the metal rail beneath me, and then slowly lowered myself onto my feet again. If the rail had been wet, I would have fallen—hard. But I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking about the twirling, swirling world around me. All the sounds and colors seemed distant, muted, as if all was under water. I truly felt weightless, floating, dancing on air.

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I had a few friends who could freehand on the rope. Alright, maybe not so much friends as…_acquaintances_, but they were all pretty good, regardless. I'm a pretty fine juggler; better than most, I'd suspect.

But this acquaintance was different then those other, static, walkers. This woman had life in her performance. You've got to admire that in a person, and I'm not one to admire much of anything in anyone.

She had the same look on her face than Helena had when she juggled with me all those years ago. Was it really _that_ long ago? Some days it seems time stops in this world; like everything that ever happened and what is happening was only just yesterday. Or maybe I just have a good memory.

Whatever the case, Hermia was certainly better at freehand balancing than juggling. It had nothing to do with natural talent; it had to do with her love for her act, the thrill of it.

Kind of how I don't view life.

_It's a dog-eat-dog world, son. You get them before they get you._

"I thought we were in a hurry," I said blandly. She stopped in mid-cartwheel, once again in a handstand. She slowly came back on her feet, staring at me again with the same strange look she gave me every time she looked at me. Once I got past the nausea of watching her face mold into an expression, I tried to identify the look. There was a bit of simple curiosity in her stance and in her mouth, but her frighteningly alive eyes and brow told a deeper story.

"I suppose you're right," she said. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," I said lightly, shooting her a quick smile.

_Sorry. _I hate that word. I really, really do. It's so compromising and weakening and problematical and…ach! It ties up everyone's feet so that they're desperately hopping around everywhere trying to get back on track. Why was it ever invented? Why not accept what you did and leave it at that? Makes life a hell of a lot easier if you ask me.

She jumped to the ground and made a gesture indicating me to go ahead. I gladly obliged.

"So, what are you expecting to find?" I asked, pocketing my juggling balls.

"A map, maybe. Some sort of useful book," she shrugged.

"There are plenty of Useful Books in the Library," I said. "You'd be amazed on how in demand they are. The Lifesavingly Useful Book Volume Two sold out in two weeks, if I remember correctly…Which I _do_, of course."

"Mum really had an imagination, didn't she?" Hermia murmured after a moment's worth of confused silence. I just shrugged in neutral acquiescence as I turned to an alley on the right.

"Wait, I think you're going the wrong way," she said suddenly. She looked back on the main road. "I remember the drawings on this road. Yeah, there's the Left Sock Shop. Just straight past there and two blocks down is the Library."

"Nope, it's definitely this way," I told her, jamming my thumb over my shoulder down the alley.

"I'm positive we have to go _that_ way. I saw it right before I got here," she insisted, waving her hand toward the main street.

"We moved the Library quite a while ago," I said patiently.

"How could you have moved it without my mum drawing it?"

"Your mum may be the Creator, but she doesn't control _everything_."

I thought I hid the slight edge of malice I felt while saying that, but I couldn't be sure Hermia didn't catch it. Nevertheless, she followed when I started down the alley again. But I felt somewhat tense, like she was watching me.

"Ah, here we are!" I said, relief washing over me as we came in sight of the Library. I felt more than saw Hermia walk to my side. She cocked her head to one side, staring at the building for a moment in bewilderment.

"_That's_ the Library?"

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**Author's Note:** Sorry for the short chapter. XP I kinda wanted to spread the plot elements. I like ending on dialogue, anyway. .


	4. Of Course

**Reviewers:**

Dylan – I luv u. Only you can luv Valentine's POV like I do. OR not. Cuz I'm just fangirly like that.

Courtney – Fetish? WHAT FETISH? (grabs Val plushie)

HellionKyou – I've seen both of those movies. Hee.

_**Walking On Air**_

_Chapter Four_

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The Library was practically nothing like how Mum drew it.

I suppose Valentine _could_ be right in saying that my Mother didn't control everything, but I couldn't be sure. Sometimes Mum's drawings were hidden under newer drawings. Why would she try to change the Library? It was one of her favorite creations…

"C'mon," Valentine said, ushering me forward. "No time to stay gawking at everything."

It wasn't my fault the building was worth gawking at. It looked like _something_ Mum would've drawn, but it was still a completely new creation.

Instead of the original, oddly-proportioned building I had seen before on Mum's wall, it was beehive-like, with about twenty stories. But there was still that weird eye-stalk sticking out of the top of it.

The light seemed to be dimming. Night was upon us as we entered the Library. My breath caught in my throat.

Despite the renovations on the outside, I suddenly felt I was actually_ in_ one of Mum's sketches. Everything was superimposed in life as if I had been looking at a black and white still and it had suddenly filled with color and began to move. And the books! Books were flying everywhere, like peculiar birds. I was a kid in the middle of one of those glass bubbles in a marine exhibit, and a real live whale shark had just passed right over my head.

Valentine and I approached the librarian, who seemed to be made of pieces of scrap metal and old, weathered books.

"I expected you would come here, my lady," he said. I was slightly taken aback.

"You know me?"

"Most people who've read _Life and Journeys of a Creator_ by H.B. Wellins do," he explained. I thought of this for a moment.

"You mean to tell me there's a biography of my _mum_ in this library?"

"Section nine-twenty under 'Biographies', I believe. Is that what you are looking for?"

"Um…no. We're here to find something to help us find Helena," I said. Valentine shifted beside me. Giving him a curious sideways glance, I continued. "A map…or, uh, something useful like that."

"Ah. Well, then I suggest you look in Information," he said, a strange smile playing on his mouth.

"Can we not do the whole déjà vu sequence here?" Valentine said dryly.

"You still need the nets," the librarian informed him, sounding just as irritated. Two figures in red cloaks and long-nosed Pulcinella masks entered, each carrying a large butterfly net. I took one and the first thing I noticed was the inscription in the pole that said; _The right book found makes a happy sound. _The lettering was identical to Mum's handwriting.

_Wish I could make up such a world,_ I thought, surprised at the pang of envy that pulled at my stomach. Luckily, Valentine interrupted these dark thoughts by asking if I could pull myself out of the dream world long enough to check out a book.

"Funny. I thought I was _already_ in a dream world," I said wryly, but I allowed him to lead the way up the spiral staircase. The Library was like any other library; quiet, save for the fluttering of pages. Although, of course, in this case the pages that fluttered were due to the books' flight rather than hands turning them. A few brushed my shoulders as we ascended.

Sections of the Library flashed by; Biographies, Autobiographies, Fiction, Non-Fiction, Fictional Non-Fiction, Non-fictional Fiction, Zoology, Anthology, Dream-ology, until…

"'Information'," I read as we finally got to the top floor. Valentine was panting and leaning heavily on the butterfly net.

"I suppose you can go on and browse," he said, gesturing me forward. I shrugged and went over to wall labeled _Maps_. There were so many; _Nineteenth-Century Africa_, the _Entire Roman Empire in Three Pages_, and even _Little Unknown Towns of Midwestern United States._ I scanned the titles.

"Valentine, think you could help?" I said. "None of these so far even offer a hint of knowing _this_ world." I paused, and turned around to look at him. His attention had been drawn to a small table of complimentary tea and little biscuits that was in view on the eighteenth floor. I could almost see his muscles ready to abandon me and eat his fill.

"_Valentine,_" I barked. He jerked and faced me.

"What?" he asked, offended.

"What is this world called?" I asked.

"What is this world _called?_" he repeated. "Why the blazes would a world need a name?" I threw my hands in the air in frustration.

"Then how on earth am I going to be able to find a map of this…_dream_ world?" I snapped.

"You people. You must name _everything_," he said, his focus being lured back to the food table. "As if you put a name on something, it'll make sense."

"It would make sense if you're trying to find a map of the unnamed place," I growled.

"Ask the Librarian. He'll probably know where a map of the world is," he said distantly, already moving toward the staircase.

Why'd I even bring him? Oh, right. To lead me here. Figures.

"No, Valentine, go right ahead," I mocked under my breath. "It's not like I _really_ need your help or anything. I just have to look through this entire _wall_ of books to find what I'm looking for. Whatever I'm looking for…" I snatched a glance over my shoulder to see if he had heard me and though perhaps I had awakened enough guilt in him to lend a hand.

He was munching on biscuits on the 18th floor. I sighed and kept looking. For Heaven's sake, there were maps of planets from _Star Wars_, and not a hint of Dark Lands or the City of Light.

"I suppose I couldn't get you to go downstairs and ask for the Librarian?" I called down to Valentine."

"Nope," came the cheerful reply.

"Of course," I muttered. "Remind me to never ask for help from you again." A book brushed my hair as it flew over my head as I browsed. I batted it away, but it seemed to enjoy tickling my ears with its pages. "Cut it out!" I grumbled, swatting at it again.

I'm not sure if most books could blow raspberries, but this one did. Well, it was more like a loud rippling of pages, but it produced the same effect.

"Oh, so you wanna play?" I breathed. The book (I couldn't read the title) seemed to be gliding mockingly in front of me. Like a jaguar stalking its prey, I slowly picked up my net off the floor. The book's pages fluttered excitedly. I crouched for a few seconds, muscles tense…

"Hah!" I pounced, flailing my net at the book. It easily dodged my attack and playfully glanced off my head as it flew behind me. Growling with good-humored frustration, I swung again.

There was something calming about chasing a flying book with a giant butterfly net. Perhaps it was because of the complete absurdity of it, but a rare, authentic, giddy smile alighted my face as I pursued the little book. All thoughts that had been suffocating me ever since I got here were temporarily washed away; my confusion, my mother, the frightening stories of this world, saving this world, Valentine being a deadweight…

"Found a friend?"

Speak of the devil. I lowered the net and blew a strand of hair out of my face.

"Erm…kind of," I said. Without another word, Valentine swooped his net up and scooped the charismatic little book out of the air. He then reached in and took it out.

"You again!" Valentine exclaimed, staring, surprised, at the red cover.

"What? What is it?" I asked, walking over to him. He handed the book over to me and muttered something under his breath.

"A _Really Useful Book,_" I read. I looked back at Valentine questioningly.

"It was ripped out the last time I saw it!" he said in a way of explanation.

"Perhaps they got a new one," I shrugged.

"There is only one Really Useful Book," someone from the stairs informed them. IT was the Librarian. He was putting away a pile of books from a hovering cart.

"How did you fix it? All the pages were missing; save for one, of course," Valentine said. "If there was only one copy how could you rebind it?"

"A Librarian never reveals his secrets," he replied loftily.

"Would a Really Useful Book have a map of this world?" I wondered aloud, opening to the first page.

_All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream._

"This is useful?" I said dubitably.

"You'd be surprised," the Librarian said, his tone vague as he descended back down the stairs. I turned to Valentine.

"You know this book?" I asked.

"We were…acquainted," he said.

"Do you know how to make it work?"

"Not really. It has a mind of its own," he replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a biscuit and promptly popping it into his mouth.

"Might as well put it back, then," I said, moving to place it on a shelf.

"I wouldn't do that. That book has been useful on more than one occasion," he said with half his mouth full of food. He swallowed. "Besides, I've heard one too many horror stories about rejected books."

I suddenly remembered Mum's descriptions of the Library's books when I was young.

_Pages _everywhere_…_

"Well, we still need a map," I said.

"What did I tell you? I'd know where ever you wanted to go if you told me!" Valentine told me. I hesitated a minute before speaking.

"I think we'd both be better off if I go find my mum alone," I said. "I mean, I appreciate you help with getting me here, but I think we should go our separate ways. I wouldn't want you to get into anything dangerous."

"_Dangerous?_"

"Well, my mum's probably stuck somewhere in the Dark Lands. I'd need more protection than you at any rate."

Valentine looked like I had poked one too many holes in his ego.

"W-Well, why do you even want to save Helena in the first place?" he stuttered, obviously flustered. "The Dark Queen probably has her locked up in the deepest, darkest dungeon in her castle and threw away the key. Or…or fed her to the Shadow." He blinked a few times, looking surprised by his own morbid rant, before muttering, "There's no hope of getting her back." I caught a hint of a shudder shake him before he covered it up by eating another biscuit. I said nothing to that. I just silently opened the Really Useful Book to a random page.

_Look for the Dark Lands in the dark._ My brows furrowed. Was it trying to show me something? I studied the bookshelves again.

"Look for the Dark Lands in the dark," I murmured, my fingers brushing the books as I tried to decipher the riddle. "In the dark…" My gaze landed on the end of the wall on my left. The dim electric lights didn't illuminate that part of the bookshelves. I walked over, my eyes scanning the titles. On title, at the bottom, stood out from the rest.

"_The Map of the Dark Lands,_" I read, picking it out. "Quite the bland title for all the trouble it's worth finding it."

A few minutes later found Valentine and me leaving the Library and gazing into the street.

"There's a motel a block from here called 'Motel'," he said, pointing to a narrow alley going to the right.

"Where are _you _going?" I asked sharply.

"To my tower, of course," he said. Then he winced. "On second thought, I think I'll just find myself a tavern close by." Straightening his robe, he looked me up and down. "A smart person wouldn't take my advice, but I advise you to stay out of the Dark Lands." He turned to go, but then turned back, his finger in the air. "One more thing; watch out for sphinxes."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said. We said goodbye and I made my way down the alley. The dark brought the cold, and gooseflesh tingled my bare arms. I had been transported in my baggy "Bagwell Family Circus" shirt and red flannel pants; no jacket, or even night robe like Valentine had.

That thought suddenly brought an empty feeling of loneliness in my stomach. A part of me began to regret spurning Valentine from my company.

But that was just my solitude speaking, of course. Valentine certainly wasn't the kind of character to associate with; that much I was sure, of course. My nerves were just frazzled. Usually I am quite comfortable being by myself. A good night's sleep and a few hours' quiet musing would make me right as rain; not needing of Valentine's or any one else's companionship…

Of course.

I took up residence of an asymmetrical room in the motel Valentine directed me to. The bed was triangular, but not uncomfortable. If this was actually a dream world, would it be strange that I was exhausted?

Perhaps not as strange as the dream I had in that dream world.

Mum was there, but then she wasn't. It was like she was fading. We were talking about a mask as we sat face to face in the middle of a room; her room.

"Can't you use it to get back?" I asked her, twirling a strand of my hair around my finger. Mum smiled sadly.

"No, love. I'm stuck here until a new queen can be made," she said. "Anti-Helena has complete control over my body whilst I am in the MirrorWorld."

"But the MirrorMask…"

"The MirrorMask switches people and their anti-person," she said. "The Dark Queen could instantly use it against me if I had it. She has too much power now that the Light Queen is dead."

"You mean there's an Anti-Hermia running about?" I exclaimed.

"No. I made sure I didn't make one of you, nor mention you in any of the art or stories I made up," she said firmly. "I couldn't bear the fact of you getting stuck in here like I was…am."

"Then where are you, Mum? What _did_ happen—"

But she wasn't paying attention. Her head was cocked to the side, as if she was listening. I listened too. At first I didn't hear anything…but there it was. A low rumble. Mum's eyes snapped back to mine.

"The Dark Queen heard us," she said, her voice rising in panic. "Hermia, you need to wake up!"

"But Mum, I need to know—"

"There's no time! The Shadows are coming for you!" she yelled, standing up. The room seemed to be rapidly flickering. "Wake up, Hermia! _Wake up!_"

My eyes flew open, sweat forming on my brow as I woke up in the MirrorWorld again. As I groggily tried to shake the remnants of sleep from my mind, I distantly began to hear screams from downstairs.

That woke me straight up.

The stones were cold on my bare feet as I jumped out of the bed and made for the door. Throwing it open, I peered down the shadowy hallway. The screams were louder. My breath started to come quick and panicked as I bolted toward the staircase. Bad mistake.

My mouth opened in a scream as I faced the black terror in front of me. It was the Shadows; that much my numbed brain could process other than my instinct shrieking at me to run. And run I did, right back into my room. Slamming the door shut and locking it, I ran to the window. I could fit through it. The problem was I was about three stories off of the ground.

The door began to creak. I turned my head to see what was happening. To my horror, the Shadow was seeping in through the cracks in the frame. I swore, swinging open the window with trembling hands. I then jumped onto the pane, looking for a foothold to make my way down.

I thanked my Mum vehemently for making Motel out of a lot of horizontal lines. With that, I delicately stepped onto an edge that sloped down to a myriad of other lines. I saw my escape right in front of my eyes. Then I heard the door break apart. _GO!_ my survival instincts screeched. I obviously obeyed.

As nimbly as a tight-rope walker sprinting for her life could on such narrow edges, I rapidly made my way jumping and scurrying down the ledges. I felt an unholy coldness creep into my heart and mind. The Shadow was right behind me. Adrenalin spurred me faster until I was able to leap to the ground, and hit it running. Tears of panic and fear blurred my vision, and I roughly wiped them away. I dared not look over my shoulder, but I could feel it looming behind me like Death itself.

I could almost hear its triumphant howl of laughter as I felt it lick at my heels.

"_No,_" I gasped, kicking it off, my breath burning in my throat. I ran faster, gaining about twenty meters of space between us. But I could already feel my strength failing. I was going to be swallowed by the Shadow, turned into dust, drowning in—

As I blindly ran, two hands pulled me into an alley, nearly giving me whiplash. My momentum made me slam into the person, who slammed into the wall with a pained grunt. I let out an involuntary sob, my mind still screaming at me to run. I scrambled to bolt back out. One of the hands grabbed me around the waist and another clamped over my mouth. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. I felt the Shadow approach, closer and closer…

And then it was gone. For a few moments there was absolute silence. Everything was black; the presence of the Shadow had burned out the streetlights.

"Well…that was exciting," the faint voice of Valentine drifted to my ears. My head was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. I yanked his hand from my mouth. He let me go. Dizzy and in shock, I dropped to my hands and knees, gasping and shaking.

"You'll be alright," Valentine said, awkwardly patting me on the back. "That's most people's first reaction to the Shadows. But, of course, they usually die."

If he could see my eyes in the dark, I would have glared at him.

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**Author's Note:** Ah-ha! Wanted a little Val/Hermia action there, didntcha? DIDNTCHA? NOT YET MY PRETTIES. Bwahahahahahahahaha. Oh, and this week I'm going to be in a play, so I'm not gonna have much time to write with dress rehearsals and performances. I'll try getting another chapter posted by Saturday though.

REVIEWWWWWWWWW PWEEEEEASE!!!!!


	5. Totally in Control

**Reviewers:**

**Dylan – You know you want it. (wink)**

**Courtney – Yes, the play went very well. Hopefully I'll get a copy of it and post it on youtube so you can see.**

**HellionKyou - I'm quite enjoying the pair meself, actually. **

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Five_

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Alright, I'll admit it even to myself; I was concerned for Hermia. Yes, yes; a very dangerous notion. Sympathy always seemed to have a way of stabbing me in the back later on. Perhaps it is a chink in the armor of Valentines, but I couldn't help it; her trembling didn't stop even after five minutes of recuperation.

"Are you cold?" I asked uncertainly as the streetlights slowly flickered back on. I silently bit my tongue. I knew she was only getting over her shock, but I always had to say _something_. Hermia, who had been sitting with her eyes closed as if meditating, opened them and stared at me. I knew, suppressing a shudder from looking in her eyes, that she knew what I was thinking.

"Yeah, I am," she replied. Her tone took me aback a little. It was definitely an essence of sarcasm, and contempt, but there was something else in that voice that thoroughly confused me. Was it pity? Hurt? Anger? A little bit of each? I couldn't analyze it any further, however, because she seemed to realize that she had exposed some hidden emotion, and a forced calm came on her face.

I think I was even more surprised than Hermia was when I found myself handing my robe to her. I quickly adopted an uncompromising smirk on my face.

"Don't let it drag in the dirt," I told her. She stood up and jammed her arms through the sleeves, still silent. My warning was fairly unnecessary; she was almost as tall as I was. Her shoulders still quivered every few seconds, but her face was guarded, as if she had on a mask. She looked like she was staring off into space for a second. I fingered the juggling balls in my pocket nervously, waiting.

"I had a dream," she said, slowly stepping out of the alley, her eyes alert as she scanned the street. "My Mum was there. We were talking about the MirrorMask. She won't be able to use it even if I brought it to her because the Dark Queen has some sort of spell over her. And she couldn't tell me where she was because the Queen heard us and sent the Shadows after me…" Her back was to me, but I could sense her face contorting with trying to calm herself as her shoulders began to grow rigid. "Anyway, I need to find a way to get Mum to create a new Queen to bring the power back into balance. As for the MirrorMask…" She stopped dead and spun around.

"I left the MirrorMask back where I appeared this morning," she said sharply, her eyes wide. "What if someone took it? What if it's the wrong person who finds it? What if—"

"Barnaby has it," I assured her. "I saw him place it in a bag after you dropped out of the sky. Probably didn't want you to break it or something. I remember when he dropped his girlfriend's favorite fish dish and shattered it into a million pieces. She gave him a tongue lashing for that! I don't blame her; it was a really nice dish, and she broiled the best fish, especially salmon—"

"_Barnaby_ has it?" Hermia cut in, interrupting my train of thought.

"I'd say that is the most probable conclusion," I replied, my proverbial feathers slightly ruffled.

"_Why didn't you stop him?_ What if he's in league with the Dark Queen?" she exclaimed. "If she gets her hands on it, we will have no hope for setting things right!"

"There _is_ no hope for setting things right! You don't have a bloody clue on how you'll be _able_ to set things right! Maybe in _your_ world you found yourself as one of those knight-in-shining-armor chaps, but you're a turkey in a hurricane in _this_ world."

I must have said something significant, because my words hit her. They hit her hard. She suddenly looked lost, fallen.

"You're right," she whispered, slumping against the alley wall, her despondent face dimly illuminated by the street light. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

I didn't understand why this fact impacted her confidence so badly. Hell, _I_ don't know what I'm doing on a regular basis. But she said nothing more about it, or anything else for that matter. She appeared to have receded into herself.

_Say something, Valentine. You have a way for words; use it!_

"Erm…I don't think Barnaby would ever be in league with the Dark Queen," I said. "He works for the City of Light, and is very proud of his position there. Perhaps a little too proud sometimes. Anyway, he probably gave it to the Prime Minister for safe-keeping. I wouldn't worry about it." Hermia was silent for another moment, but her face seemed to lose a bit of its hopelessness.

"I'd like to make sure myself," she said, stepping away from the wall. She looked at me. "I left my books in the Motel. We need to get them, and then go back to the palace to get the Mask." She briskly began walking down the street.

"Hey…wait!" I said, flustered as I jogged to catch up to her. "I thought you said the MirrorMask was useless in saving Helena."

"I never said that," she said. "I said that Mum couldn't use it. _I_ can, though."

"What could you use it for?" I asked, utterly confused.

"I don't know, but it'd be nice to have it if we can," she answered. I swore I saw a real calm in her face. I shrugged off my confusion and fell into her pace as we headed to the Motel.

Hermia may have been tall enough to allow the robe to dangle a few inches off the ground, but she was almost as lanky as me. I cocked my head to the side, studying her. Did that robe engulf me like it did her? She looked like a child in her father's bathrobe; small, vulnerable. Something dangerously close to fondness stirred in my chest. But I quickly pushed it out, firmly replacing it with wry amusement, at best.

_Valentines cannot get attached to anything,_ I told myself sternly as we approached the seemingly abandoned Motel. A disturbingly familiar feeling of foreboding grew in my stomach as we approached. And then it growled.

Okay, maybe I was hungry too.

Hermia opened the front door carefully, her movement careful and her muscles ready to run if she needed to. We entered the lobby. It was empty.

Save for the black, charred statue of the man behind the desk. I heard Hermia take a sharp intake of breath before she quickly headed up the stairs, nearly running. We passed other black husks of people who had tried to run away from the Shadow's grip, and failed. A sickened shudder ran up my spine as I caught up with Hermia. She had stopped at a broken doorway, the door hanging listlessly off of its hinges, and slowly entered. She then turned to me.

"What did the Shadows do to them?" she demanded, waving her hand at the hallway behind me.

"Killed them, what do you think?" I told her, carefully keeping my own panic out of my voice. She looked like she was about to make me explain in detail, but thought better of it and turned to the bed-side table. She opened the drawer and sighed with relief as she took out the two books.

"C'mon," she said, heading back out the door. I followed in her wake.

"So, what's your plan after we get to the Palace?" I asked. "I suppose you'd want to go running around to find your mum?"

"Yes, Valentine, that's exactly what I'll do," Hermia replied, looking through the Land of Shadows map. "Right after I cut the sleeves of this bloody robe," she growled, shoving the draping fabric up her arms so that she could turn the pages.

"Oy! I like those sleeves!" I exclaimed, offended. "You can give it back if you hate it so much." I was kind of missing my robe; not because I was cold, but because it was comforting, a part of me. As it were.

"No, I'm fine," she replied. I suddenly got the impression that she wasn't going to give it back any time soon.

"Don't you dare cut those sleeves, or I'll feed you to the Shadows myself," I warned. She laughed; an off-white kind of laugh. The ones that are not really because you're happy, but you just want to laugh at something to soften your mood.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I suppose I need to work on my control issues.

Ever since I could remember, I always had this deep-seated need to know what I was doing and where I was going. Even as a child in school, I'd used to get into fights with my friends because I would try to boss them around, make them stick to the path; _my_ path. Of course I eventually grew out of that childishness and gained a lot more control over myself when I got older. But control was something I was still obsessed with…am still obsessed with. Control over myself and my situations, especially.

So far in my life, however, being in control and exerting my energy to affect my familiar surroundings positively has produced excellent results. I was happy, content.

Until now.

_Now_ it's as if nature and I are having a power struggle. Most people would tell me to quit, but I'm just too bloody stubborn.

You see, sometimes, whenever something gets out of my control, I get so stressed that I become depressed and often don't talk to anyone and fester in my own misery. I wonder if, subconsciously, I'm punishing myself at those times. Not that I'm a masochist or anything; I just believe that most of what I do has a consequence and therefore basically everything that happens to me is my doing.

Take just now, for example; I'm heading toward the Palace to get the MirrorMask, and then…I don't know what I'm going to do then. When Valentine tore down my carefully constructed wall of self-assurance, I had to do something. My instinct to keep from listlessly spiraling into, well, shadow was to _do_ something. Find a path and stick to it. So I'm grasping the one shred of purpose in my life and holding onto it like a buoy; that purpose being getting the MirrorMask and heading for the Land of Shadows to find my mum.

"The Dark Palace is not far from this neutral zone," I mused aloud, my fingers skimming the pages of the map book. "It would be most likely that the Dark Queen did keep her there, but it might be too obvious. What do you think, Valentine?"

"I'm hungry. But I don't think, I know," he muttered.

"Seriously, Valentine," I said.

"Seriously? I think you're wasting your time." I rolled my eyes.

"You're such a pessimist."

"I am not!" he insisted after pretending to gag at my eye-rolling. "I'm an idealistic realist. And unlike some people who prance off on useless errands, I prefer to know where my journey ends."

"I know where my journey is going to end," I said. "I'm just…choosing ways that I might be able to get there." Valentine scoffed.

"A lot of good that's done you so far."

We sort of stopped talking until we reached the Palace gates, which were closed and barred.

"Well, now what, Miss Chosen Way?" Valentine mocked. I ignored him and approached the gates.

"Hello? Is there someone there who can help us?" I called, rattling the brass gates. Silence.

"Well, nothing here," Valentine said, clapping his hands together. "I suppose we might as well come back tomorrow."

"I do think not," I murmured, narrowing my eyes at him before turning back to the gates. "Helloooo?"

"Yes, yes, what is it? Oh! It's you, my lady! Barnaby told me all about you. Hold on a moment, I'll open the gate."

A small blond woman appeared and disappeared in an instant. I only was able to capture bright red lips and a cat-like orange mask. I couldn't see her eyes, like the rest of the humans I've met. She came back soon enough, carrying a ring of keys.

"Sorry, the guards here are so touchy about their keys after the Shadows started coming in again," she said. "By the way I'm Laverna, Barnaby's girlfriend. Please, come in…Valentine!" She stopped, her posture surprised and slightly confused. "What are you doing here?" Valentine quickly smiled at her.

"You know me. I'm everywhere."

"Indeed," Laverna replied, watching him for a second longer before turning to me. "Well, my lady—"

"You can call me Hermia," I said.

"Well, Barnaby told me you would probably be coming back for the MirrorMask, so I offered to keep it safe until you came around. He has so many errands to run, bless him. Such important men are quite busy you know." Laverna turned her head slightly, smiling wryly. It seemed that she had glanced at Valentine. Valentine, in return, scowled.

"Thank you. That is why we're here," I said, nudging Valentine with my elbow to in effort to get him to lighten up.

"I know it is your duty on your own to find the Creator," Laverna ventured slowly. "But I was wondering if you need any help. I think you would need more than dear Valentine to get you through the Land of Shadows." Valentine opened his mouth to retort, but I cut him off first.

"I need as much help as I can get, to tell the truth," I said. "You're certainly welcome." Laverna flashed a dazzling smile, dimples included.

"Marvelous!" she said, reaching behind the small podium on the side. It had a sign that demanded that _Every Person Sign In Before Entering Palace_. She pulled out a purple velvet bag and handed it to me. "The MirrorMask."

"Thank you." It had a strap long enough for me to sling it over my shoulder. But first I tucked my two books in the bag along with the Mask.

"Now that we're all fine and set," Valentine said. "Do we still have any idea how we're going to be able to cross the border without running into the Shadows?"

"We can figure that out on our way there," Laverna said brightly.

"That's suicide," he told her shortly. "We'd be gobbled by the black globs in seconds."

"Oh, don't be such a nit," she said. "Hermia is the Creator's daughter. She'll be able to dream up any solution we need."

I didn't have the heart to correct that. I just accepted the slow sinking of my heart to my stomach.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note:** Well, Midsummer Night's Dream performance was astounding. So much fun.

PLEASE LOOK ON MY PROFILE. I HAVE POSTED THE LINK FOR MY FANFIC SKETCH THAT I DID OF HERMIA AND VALENTINE.

And since I'm not to ashamed to bribe for reviews, I will. First and fourth reviewers will get a MirrorMask picture drawn personally by me.


	6. Tree of Whispers

**Reviewer:**

**Dylan** – Yeah. You'll get a picture. (Suggestive wink)

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Six_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Laverna and I hit it off pretty well. She was an excellent conversationalist. Her personality was bubbly and energetic. As we walked we giggled like schoolgirls, much to Valentine's annoyance.

But even as we laughed together, I felt slightly uncomfortable around her, as if I knew she wasn't someone I could share my thoughts with, like I could with a close girlfriend. But chattering with a woman my age was relaxing and helped lighten my mood. Laverna spoke to me as if I fit into this world, like there were no fish swimming above my head.

Plus, she didn't flinch every time I scrunched up my face, like Valentine did. Well, she _did_ make it a point to not look me in the eyes, but it was an improvement.

"What is the Creator like?" Laverna asked after we stopped to eat. Actually, is was mostly Valentine's complaining of hunger that made us stop at a small stand selling little sandwiches and cups of pea soup. The sandwiches had been stacked in the shape of a ragged heart.

"Motherly, I'd say," I replied. "Well, I guess because she's my mother…but she is very warm and loving and all that. She cares a lot about her family. She loves juggling and sketching; she has so much passion for them."

"Juggling? You don't say," she said, shooting a sly look at Valentine, her grin matching her mask. "Did dear Valentine ever have the honor of juggling with his Creator?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," he said dryly. He was probably still sore from Laverna's previous prod at his chivalry for giving me his robe. "And to tell the truth, she was almost as good as I was then."

"Valentine, I'm shocked!" Laverna exclaimed. "I think you've grown soft over the years; freely offering compliments and robes to strangers. What ever happened to the scheming, lying little thief we both know and detest?"

"I am not a thief," Valentine said, a humorless smirk on his mouth. "That's hitting a little below the belt, Laverna." Something like a stiff warning was in his smile. I looked at him curiously, but, of course, he didn't meet my gaze. We kind of dropped the subject. To break the uneasy lethargy of the moment, I pulled out the Really Useful Book.

_Please tell me how I can save Mum and get the hell out of here,_ I wished silently as I opened to a random page.

_Keep your enemies close, but your friends closer. _I read it again, confused, thinking I suddenly went dyslexic. But I had read correctly.

What was that supposed to mean? Isn't it the other way around? Or was it trying to tell me something else, something more cryptic and meaningful? Maybe it meant I needed my friends…or maybe…maybe it's my friends I need to watch out for. I snatched a look at my traveling companions. They were only acquaintances, but Valentine saved my life and Laverna kept the MirrorMask safe. Would that make them…?

"What does it say?" Laverna asked, looking over my shoulder, breaking my suspicious thoughts. I quickly grinned at her.

"For a Really Useful Book, it's extremely vague."

"But mostly common sense," she replied, her eyes on the page. "_Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer._"

I did a double take, blinking dumbly at the suddenly changed words on the page.

_How…?_

Covering my surprise, I closed the book and forced a calm smile on my face.

"No harm in a little reminder," I said. I took the chance to change the subject. "How close are we to the border?"

"About another kilometer or two," Laverna said, looking in the Dark Lands map I had given her to look over. "Not far. It's a small world."

I quickly spoke before a certain song got stuck in my head.

"Have you ever met a sphinx?" I asked the first question that popped into my head.

"Of course," she said. "Nasty little things, but extraordinarily cunning. They eat books, you know. They particularly like Machiavelli and books on Caesar. I suppose _that_ explains their cunning."

"I've heard _you're_ partial to Machiavelli yourself," inserted Valentine, his tone aloof. Laverna smirked sardonically.

"What ever would give you that impression?" she simpered, demurely placing her hand on her cheek. I chuckled.

"What books do _you_ like, Valentine?" I asked him before he took another bite of one of his sandwiches. He thought for a moment.

"Classics," he said. "_Dracula_, _Frankenstein_, _Jekyll and Hyde_…_Through the Looking Glass_." He grinned ironically. "I prefer thrillers at any rate."

"Another Valentine paradox," Laverna sighed. "Loves to be thrilled, hates excitement. The world's most interested coward." Her laugh was light and tinkling despite her harsh words. Valentine's back stiffened.

"Oh, lighten up on him," I found myself chiding her gently. "He doesn't deserve so much ridicule. Well, not _too_ much." Laverna gave me a troubling, sly look that I interpreted as, _Are you sure about that?_ But she dropped her mocking of him.

I didn't really think of it before, but Valentine looked strange without his robe, even though I only met him a few hours ago (well, except for Mum's old drawing of him). Having his bare, lithe arms exposed seemed to have exposed his own personality more. He seemed more guarded without it; as if the robe had been a piece of him. Valentine didn't seem cold though, just not…cloaked.

_And Laverna's little remarks didn't help either_, a dry little voice in my head said. I chose to ignore that train of thought.

The city seemed to thin as we began to approach the city limits. Fewer buildings, along with less people, crowded the street. It was very quiet, as if the world around me was holding its breath. It wasn't an extremely comforting feeling. Then the buildings ceased altogether, leaving a plain of dark yellow grass stretching out in front of us. Our trio stopped. Darkness was on the horizon, while the sun seemed to be rising behind us.

"What is this?" I asked.

"The Neutral Lands," Laverna said. "Between the borders of Light and Shadow, there is an expanse of area that is neither nor. Unless one overbalances the other, of course."

Was it just me, or did I see the darkness creeping much faster than the light the next time I looked?

As we began moving again, a lone shape grew in our view in front of us. It looked very large, and very tall. And it was moving. At first I thought it was the Shadows again, and my muscles prepared to bolt. But as we slowly drew closer, I saw that it was not the Shadows, but a very big tree. I could make out the details as it became clearer. It looked very old; its trunk and branches were knarled and twisted. It resembled something between a cypress and a weeping willow.

"The Tree of Whispers," Valentine explained, probably seeing my marveling face. "People say that it tells you secrets that only you can hear."

"I wonder if it can tell me where Mum's hidden," I muttered, approaching it. A cool breeze rustled the leaves as I neared it. It did sound like many people whispering unintelligibly.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I hoped not.

As I watched Hermia jog towards the Tree of Whispers, I felt an unwelcome, tight twist in my stomach. No, it wasn't hunger. I ate enough of those little sandwiches. I couldn't place why I felt so on edge. Maybe I was afraid of what she might hear…

No. No, you aren't afraid. There was nothing to be afraid of, Valentine. Why the bloody hell are you getting antsy now?

_Because she took my robe,_ I answered myself sullenly.

I followed Hermia, feeling more than seeing Laverna follow me. I could feel her cat-like energy prickle the hairs on my neck. She finally passed me, moving toward Hermia as I went around to the other side of the giant tree. Leaves brushed the back of my head even as I ducked under the branches. The sound of soft mutterings surrounded me. They were strangely hypnotizing. I sat down at the base of the trunk, listening. I couldn't hear any distinct words, but that suited me well enough. There were enough secrets in me that Helena could fill five universes with them.

"_Helena…"_

I froze. It was the tree. It was talking to me. Well, whispering. Whatever. The tree was talking to me regardless. So obviously I listened.

It was silent.

How droll.

"I don't have all day, you know," I muttered, looking over my shoulder to make sure Laverna and Hermia were still out of sight.

"_She…knows…it…was…you…"_

My blood ran cold. I whipped my head back around.

"_What?_" I hissed.

"_Helena…knows…you…did…it…"_

It said nothing else. I could feel it shun me. From revealing its secret, or because of what I did, I didn't know. Nevertheless, an iron vise seemed to close around my ribs. I stumbled to my feet, trying to get as far away from the blasted tree as I could.

Yes, I am a coward. I know that. Helena knew that. That's why I never wanted her to find out it was me. Even though I did it anyway. In cold blood, at that. But what else could I do? What would anyone else do when they realized that there is no such thing as free will? That there is a bloody _teenager_ in charge of every detail of your life and thoughts? That the reason you were a…a _coward_ and a thief was because you were made that way, and you have no choice to change it.

I had to do _something_. She was ruining my life. I had no inspiration anymore. _What was the point? _I told myself day in and day out. _You are not original. You are not unique. You are a figment of someone else's imagination._ Sometimes, when I got myself drunk enough at the taverns, I'd go on lengthy philosophical rants just to try to figure out my own identity. I was desperate. I was stuck in a rut without a can opener.

And then the Queens died, and the balance shifted. I never did like AntiHelena, but at least she had the courage to go out into the real world, try to be an original. Was she the first of us to realize we were all just puppets on strings?

I kind of don't blame her for switching with Helena, even if she did disrupt the balance and all.

I wondered this for the past few weeks. She had only been in power for a month, anyway. I wondered and wondered, wondering if I could change, how I could change, like AntiHelena did, even only briefly. And then my chance came when that same short, wispy hair caught my eye as Helena made her way down the street leading to the Palace. I followed her, not wanting to reveal myself, which is just as well. I was in shock for the most part, anyway.

She was older. A lot older. She had grey in her hair, and her face was slightly lined, but she still had that strange quirkiness about her. I also noticed she still had those ratty, nasty bunny shoes.

I followed her into the Palace, using my charm and my somewhat-faded importance. Yes, I eavesdropped on her and the Prime Minister's conversation. When I heard she was going to create a new Light Queen to counter-balance the Dark, I had this idea; an idea that could finally free me.

For the second time, I sold Helena out to the Dark Queen.

But it was to stop my slow spiraling into insanity. Helena didn't have the right to control people! Why, she didn't even recognize me the first time we met, and she was the one who created me! Granted, she could have been one of those young artist types that forgot their creation if they weren't all that…important, but that wasn't the point. Without her in the way to control every bit of the land, light and dark, I would be free to pursue inner growth. I had the right to for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. _Without_ a Creator.

…Right?

"Valentine! C'mon, the Shadows are more active around here," the clear voice of Hermia pierced through my thoughts as I stared blankly at the Tree of Whispers. I swiftly pulled up my guard as I carefully studied her, making sure that the Tree hadn't thought it necessary to inform her of my betrayal. She looked at me the same way, so I dispelled the thought, along with my anxiety.

"Did the Tree tell you anything?" I asked her as she walked up to me, Laverna following.

"No, nothing comprehensible," she replied. "You?"

"Nope," I told her. "Might as well get on with our suicide." I turned my head toward the west, where the darkness was rising, and exaggerated a hopeless slump. Hermia grinned slightly and told me to grow a backbone. "Wouldn't I be as limp as a noodle if I didn't have one already?"

For a reason only my estranged Creator might have known, I collapsed onto the grass with dramatic flair, pretending unconsciousness, arm thrown across the eyeholes of my mask. Hermia said nothing for a moment, and then erupted with laughter. I uncovered my eyes and saw her kneeling on the ground in front of me, clutching her stomach in mirth.

"That…was…so…_ridiculous_," she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. I couldn't have agreed more. Part of me had his head hanged in shame, but another part just enjoyed the spark of humanity, of…of…originality! Something in me cracked. Well, maybe cracked wasn't the right word. More like blossomed. I didn't have the energy to pursue the origin, however, because Laverna cleared her throat loudly.

"As entertaining as your antics are, Valentine, I suggest we get moving," she said, her tone serious. Her head cocked toward the Land of Shadows. A cold wind suddenly picked up, chilling all of us to the marrow. I recognized that chill.

"Shadows," I murmured. I pulled Hermia up. "I second that opinion. Let's go. We stayed too long."

Hermia's face swiftly shifted from her previous delight to something that hinted at fear as she stared over my shoulder.

"It's coming, isn't it?" I said in a small voice. She just nodded, and bolted, dragging me along with her before I could react. I staggered, and nearly fell to drag her down with me, but I caught myself in time. The three of us ran; the hollow roar of the Shadows behind us. It could probably catch up to us in five minutes. If we kept sprinting at the same pace. Which would be impossible.

"Where are we going to hide?" Laverna shouted, her cool composure torn down in her panic. I only looked at Hermia, whose hand was still in mine as we sprinted. She looked like her brain was about to implode, she was thinking so hard. I heard her breath coming fast and erratically as she whipped her head from side to side, trying to find something. Her eyes locked on something. I saw her take a deep breath, and she closed her eyes. She never faltered in her stride, but her hand grasped mine tighter.

I felt my ears pop. Her eyes flew open.

"There!" she said, pointing off to the left. I looked. Nothing. I stared at her, both baffled and alarmed. She swore in frustration and pulled me, Laverna following, to the direction she pointed to.

"Where are you…Aaahhh!" I was falling, and then landing. I barely rolled out of the way as Laverna followed suit and nearly landed on my head. "How did you—?" But a hand covered my mouth to prevent my second question from becoming air-borne. As soon as the Shadow felt to come and pass, Hermia released me. I turned to her.

"Being the Creator's daughter has its advantages, I suppose," she muttered before collapsing against the ditch's wall, her head in her hands, exhausted from the effort of creating our escape.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note: **Okay. Since the last bribe didn't exactly work, here's a new one. Courtney and HellionKyou both get drawings because they are faithful reviewers. The next new person to comment gets a drawing of their choice as well.

Pleeeeassee revieeeew!!!


	7. Peculiar Reasoning

**Reviewers:**

Dylan – Dude. I'm totally dedicating a chapter to you.

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – I'm so glad you like it! I have only seen MirrorMask twice, but I tried to keep true to his personality.

Courtney – You still need to see MirrorMask (grumble). Thanks for being a faithful reviewer! (gives pancakes)

MaidM – 1) I did really try to get Hermia to be different from her mother, and I'm glad it's working. 2) I heart Shakespeare. I played Helena in Midsummer Night's Dream only two weeks ago. So fun. 3) I love that part of him, though. I always thought of him as this morally-confused character that eventually does what's right after a long, hard process of inner turmoil. 4) I was thinking about not adding it in, but it was essential to the plot, and I think it's cute!

And now, onto the next chapter!

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Seven_

"No, no, I'm fine," I insisted. "Just…drained." Drained was an understatement. How did Mum _do_ it? I felt like it was an effort just to keep breathing, I was so exhausted. I was dizzy; these blasted spots swam in my vision whenever I opened my eyes. "Just give me a minute." I heard Valentine back off.

"Good quick thinking, Hermia," Laverna said. "Too bad you can't do it more often. I don't suppose you could add a few lights to this place?" I opened my eyes once the faintness subsided.

_If I did it might have killed me,_ I thought morbidly. The only light that illuminated the large ditch was weak from the mix of light and dark in the Neutral sky.

"Did you at least add a ladder?" Valentine asked. He was kneeling about six feet away, rolling an orange ball over his hand, watching me. I was beginning to think it was a nervous habit. Playing with the ball, I mean. Not watching me.

"Erm…I don't remember if it was a _ladder_," I replied, pursing my lips in thought. I suppressed a grimace as a needle of pain shot through my overworked brain. I took a deep breath, trying to relax the muscles in my face. It helped, so I stood up slowly, surveying the ditch.

Maybe I was biased, but it was a good ditch; well-shaped. There wasn't enough light to illuminate the width, but it seemed very large. The walls were a good twenty, twenty-five feet high. Suddenly my foot stubbed something. I could only see a shadow of it, so I felt it in front of me. It was smooth…metallic, probably. Attached to it was what felt like a ladder.

"Guys, I think I found our way out of here," I said excitedly. Laverna and Valentine stopped their hunting and came toward me.

"I can't see it, Hermia," Valentine said. "What'd you find?"

"A ladder," I replied, feeling a rung level to my eyes. The silhouette of Valentine looked up.

"Then where in the world does it go out? There's no hole up there!" I looked up. He was right. The only opening that we could see was on the other side of the ditch. It seemed like I had only made a hole big enough for a man to walk through…or fall through.

"Well, did _you_ find a better way?" Laverna scoffed. "C'mon, let's see for ourselves." Her hand bumped into mine as she felt around for a rung. I tried to regain some more energy as she climbed up.

"Erm…I think I'll keep looking for a _different_ way," Valentine said in a resolute tone.

"Scared, Valentine?" I teased. He just took on a surly silence as Laverna laughed about five feet above us.

"Don't mind him," came her light, tinkling voice. "He'll follow once he realizes it's more dangerous down there than up here."

"Dangerous down _here?_ It's a bloody ditch! What could possibly be down here?" Valentine protested.

"Oh, did I forget to mention I added a giant man-eating mole down here?" I said, hiding a grin. I felt more than saw him glower at me.

"Just get off your cowardly ass, Valentine, and climb before we leave you down here. Alone," Laverna told him, resuming her ascent. I started climbing as well.

"Alone down in a ditch would be better than up there with your irritating mouth," he replied hotly.

"You need to face your fears sometime," I told him. "Might as well be now. You don't know if the next fear you have to face is worse than this." Valentine was silent for a moment.

"You do have a point," he muttered grudgingly. "Alright, I'll come up." I kept climbing to give him room to come up behind me. I must have climbed near twenty feet when my hand hit Laverna's foot.

"Would you care to explain, Hermia?" she asked. Her voice was tight, frustrated.

"What is it?" I asked cautiously. "Does it end?" A hand roughly grabbed my arm from above and pulled me two more rungs up. "Laver—!"

"You better find a way out of this. _You_ may be able to escape, but _we_ can't." Laverna then put my hand on something. We seemed to be on a platform of some sort. My hand was now on something thick, leathery, like a...

"Balance beam," I muttered, looking across the ditch. In the faint light I saw a beam stretch from the platform to the edge of the ditch.

"I guess that means you don't know how to freehand?" I said sheepishly. An angry sigh was emitted from Laverna's mouth.

"Any more bright ideas?" she said scathingly. I scowled.

"The beam's thick enough for you to crawl across on your hands and knees," I said, feeling it again.

"You're mental!" Valentine replied, also boarding the platform.

"It's the only way," I said, silently, desperately wishing otherwise.

"Climbing a ladder to nowhere is one thing," he said. "But balancing on a strip of metal and leather dangling twenty feet in the air? No. I prefer my spine intact, thank you."

"I agree with _him_," Laverna told me. I pass a hand tiredly over my face.

"Listen, we can wait another day for me to get my strength back and make a ladder that goes all the way to the top, or we could save ourselves loads of time and get out of here now. I vehemently vote for the latter."

"Well, I'm inclined to agree with the former," Laverna said. "My sense of balance, I think, is not up to the challenge of crawling blindly across a black abyss." I bit my teeth against a growl of aggravation.

"Fine. We'll wait," I said, extremely unhappy. Well, what else could I do once I was outnumbered two to one? Not much. In the meantime, however, I wanted a little practice.  
As Laverna descended, and Valentine waited for her to reach the bottom so he could follow, I stepped out onto the balance beam, the thrill of walking into space igniting my blood.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I'm not a doctor or anything, but I think if your heart stops about three times in one day, it must have damaged _something_. So, after the Shadows nearly devouring us for the second time, my nerves were pretty frazzled already. And now there goes Hermia, stepping casually into the balance beam with no net, no balancing object, and almost no bloody light.

My first thought was to yell at her to get back onto the platform before she fell and broke her neck. But just as I began to speak, I stopped myself with the fact that yelling at her would startle her into doing just that. I groaned in frustration. The effect of my vocal indecision sounded like a strangled elephant. Finally I toned down the yell I was planning and tried to keep the panic out of my voice.

"Hermia, would you be _so_ kind as to come back before I asphyxiate you for _doing such a bloody stupid thing?_" I hissed.

"I'm fine. Don't be such a sore, Valentine," came her smart reply. I barely smothered another alarmed yell as I saw her silhouette do a cartwheel.

_Let her do what she wants, Valentine. She's just trying to irritate you,_ I told myself.

Right. Ignore her. That's exactly what I'll do. She knows what she doing anyway, she won't hurt herself. Just walk away. Climb down the ladder and let her do what she wants. No need to worry about anything that Hermia does. The only safety Valentines care about is their own…

"Geeeeaaaahhhhh…Hermia!" I shouted as she seemed to waver dangerously on the beam. She stopped and turned around.

"Don't get your hair in a twist, I was perfectly in control," Hermia said coolly. But she walked back to the platform, anyway.

"I-I knew that. I just…er…would have thought that you would rather be able to get out of here faster by resting instead of exerting yourself by doing gymnastics." _Brilliant save_, I congratulated myself smugly as Hermia seemed to accept it. She sat down on the platform, a pole supporting her back. The light from the hole on the other side of the ditch illuminated her face. More or less, anyway. I sat across from her.

"You didn't _really_ add a giant man-eating mole in here, did you?" I asked tentatively.

Hermia smirked at me.

"No, I'm very sure I didn't," she said, obviously suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

"It was a perfectly reasonable question," I told her.

"Uh-huh."

"How should I know whether or not you had that kind of sick sense of humor?" I pointed out.

"Right."

"Valentines are always right," I threw in as a last defense. Hermia cocked her head to the side, studying me curiously. Her movable eyes, as usual, made the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.

"Really?" she said.

"They never apologize, either," I added, wanting her to stop staring at me like that. I squirmed a bit under her gaze. She seemed to realize my discomfort and lowered her eyelids a bit, hooding them.

"Are there any other defining characteristics I should know about?" she asked, her now trademark smirk still on her mouth.

"Well, Valentines have towers," I said, musing. "We hate greens and sphinxes hate us. And we love books. And hats! I love hats. With big, gaudy feathers…oh, and jewels! Sparkly diamonds and sapphires and rubies. You can buy all the biscuits and cake you can…" An unexpected, unusual, and unpleasant feeling suddenly washed over me.

_Valentine, you spineless, cake-hogging coward!_

"Are there _really_ other Valentines?" I nearly bit my tongue when Hermia (thankfully) startled me out of my gloomy recollections.

"Erm…what? Oh! Of course there are!" I thought for a second. "Ah, well…actually…I never really _met_ another Valentine, but I know there are others. Well…there should be…"

"Are you related to them? I mean, would your father be a 'Valentine'?" Hermia asked.

I completely lost her train of thought. She was reading into the whole 'Valentine' thing _way_ too much.

"I…I'm not sure. Never really thought about it," I muttered.

"Is that what you use to explain your own identity? Your own flaws? You just tell people you inherited it from these 'other Valentines'?" she said in a soft, vague tone.

What was this? Twenty questions? She had gone from casual conversation to a Freud interview on the drop of a pin!

"Now wait just a minute!" I said, pointing at her defensively. "What the are you trying to get at? I do not use inheritance as an excuse for my own choices!" Hermia blinked a few times, surprised by my words. Or something.

"Um…sorry. It was a train of thought," she furrowed her brow, thinking. I just sat there; utterly confused. A small, forced smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth. "I get carried away with analyzing."

"Damn right you do," I muttered. She sighed, rolling her eyes up to the dirt ceiling of the ditch. Then she put her head in her hands and groaned a long, heavy, frustrated groan.

"I'm tired of this."

"Of what?"

"I feel like I'm being judged on my performance or something," she spat through her gritted teeth. "Life seems to have some sick amusement of throwing normal people into bizarre circumstances and expecting them to take it in stride." As her hands traveled to her hair and her fingers raked it back, I had this insane notion of patting her on the arm reassuringly.

This girl was beginning to unravel my defenses in a most unhealthy way.

"I don't think it's life that judges," I said. "It's _people_ that do all the judging. They put you in a tiny little box that gets smaller and smaller until you can't even find who you are in the first place." Hermia took her hands away from her hair and stared at me.

"So what? In the end it's _your_ fault, not anyone else's, if you end up some shallow, empty version of yourself," she said. "You're the one who chooses whether or not to stick to a hobby, or find a job, or fall into your mother's dream world…"

With another groan of frustration, she threw her hands into the air helplessly. I waited.

"No one controls or influences _me_," she went on. "I am who I am, but I still have to find all that out on my own. There are no other Hermias to teach me all the little personality quirks I should have." She shot another one of her strange, calculating looks at me. It took me a second to realize she was waiting for me to put in my opinion.

What _was_ my opinion? I've got to say; no one usually cares to ask me for one that often.

"Well, you see, I mean, I'm just the juggling, thieving Valentine to most people," I said, my thoughts getting lost in Hermia's endlessly attentive gaze. "Nothing much more. Well, I like to think I am a very important man. I mean, I _do_ have a tower and all. But everyone I meet doesn't care for towers so much. So, besides juggling and my uncanny charm…there is really nothing else for me to use to impress people. And people are so fickle if you can't interest them long enough, you know. People, in general, are just not interested in topics not including themselves as the main contributor."

"So you just became what everyone saw you as?" she said. I opened my mouth in rebuke, then closed it and thought of her question. My eyes, hidden behind my mask, were still locked onto hers. I really, _really _wanted to keep myself from spilling the whole philosophy drabble I usually save for the end of the whiskey bottle, but, for some reason, Hermia's eerily intense focus on what I was saying completely loosened my tongue.

"What else could I do? You don't know what it's like here," I said. "People are completely cold. It's like there's a bloody wall between everyone. You live your own life, and you don't mess around in the affairs of others. That's how everything works."

"That's what it's like with most people where I'm from, too," Hermia replied wryly. We were both silent for a while. My hand slipped into my pocket and I idly rolled my orange ball over my knuckles.

I never really thought about this. It's true what I said, you know. People around here seem to live in a bubble. Take Mrs. Bagwell, for instance. Well, no, never mind. She had the right to be cut off from everyone; she was old and senile. But what I'm trying to say is that, no matter how well I juggle, or how much I make people laugh, no one sees me as a person. Not even Helena, when she was here. I'm like…a shadow. Or something. I'm no poet at any rate. Still, no one ever really cared to take time to get to know me, really.

Well, almost no one. Hermia, I guess, with her perceptive, hazel eyes. She was an odd one, alright. No one I've ever met—and I've met a lot of people in my time—talked and looked at me like that. Like I was a real, substantial, three-dimensional person. Like I had an opinion. _That's_ probably what took me off-guard and allowed myself to spill my thoughts.

That, and the fact that she was snugly enveloped by my robe…

Bloody hell, I'm becoming a romantic. Ach. This has to stop. Now. Valentines are _not_ romantics…

_But there _are_ no other Valentines, are there?_ a small, sly voice in my head told me. _So who says you can't be a romantic…?_

My hand tightened nervously around the ball, and I fiercely stared at it to drive away those thoughts.

"No Valentine ever taught me to juggle," I muttered. "That counts for something, right? I wanted to learn something spontaneously, and I took that chance."

"Are you sure no other Valentine ever thought of that before?" A sly grin finally brightened Hermia's features.

"Yes, I'm sure," I replied grumpily.

"Of _course_," she said. "No other person, Valentine or otherwise, could _ever_ be as talented at juggling as you." She chuckled, looking back up at the ceiling. Her eyelids were drooping tiredly.

"As if the world needs any more Valentines," the voice of Laverna came from the base of the ditch. "Are you two coming down or am I going to have to come up there and join your little party?"

My God, that woman _really_ makes my hair stand on end; even moreso than Hermia's eyes. Said eyes then turned their gaze toward me.

"I suppose we shouldn't leave Laverna all by her lonesome," she said, standing up. I followed her lead, and the two of us descended the ladder.

"I'm exhausted," I said. "I say we sleep for a bit. That way Hermia will be fully charged and ready to poof a ladder into existence in a blink of an eye in the morning."

"I second that," Hermia muttered, yawning.

"So we're going to sleep on the cold, hard, dirt ground? Wonderful idea, Valentine, but I think it would be nice if we at least had some sort of blanket or something," Laverna said dryly.

"I think I could muster the energy for that," Hermia said slowly. "A few blankets would be a lot easier to make than a huge ditch and a balance beam.

"You sure? Don't overexert yourself, making a blanket," I said, smirking. She mirrored my expression and then closed her eyes, concentrating. The same strange _pop_ that I heard when she created the ditch sounded in my ears just as three woolen blankets appeared in front of us. Hermia's shoulders slumped a little.

"Yeah. I'm definitely ready to pass out now," she said, grabbing one of the blankets. Laverna and I took one as well. We walked around a bit, trying to find some softer ground, and eventually laid out the blankets. Laverna was on Hermia's right side, and I was on her left.

"G'night," Hermia murmured, her eyes closing even before she laid down her head.

"Don't let the sphinx bite," I added cheerfully before laying down as well. I swore I heard a light chuckle before her breathing leveled out in sleep. After a bit of shuffling on my part to situate myself comfortably on the hard ground, it was all quiet, save for the soft breaths of Hermia. She had my robe tightly wrapped around her for warmth, her head ducked down so that the fabric covered her nose and mouth. Goosebumps ran up my arms, missing that same warmth that it had given me.

But I didn't miss it too much. I mean, I was fine without it. But then…seeing Hermia securely wrapped in that robe made me feel calm.

For some peculiar reason.

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**Author's Note:** Sorry sooooo much for the late update!!! I've been busy with school and homework and soccer and all that. I'm going to be pretty swamped for the next two weeks, as well. Finals. Ick. So I'll try to squeeze in one or two more chapters if I can. Please keep reviewing!!!!!

I got MirrorMask in the mail!!! FINALLY!


	8. Rewards

**Reviewers: **

Dylan – I loved that whole little monologue myself. XD I'm so strange. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE!!!!!! THIS ONE IS DEDICATED TO YOUUUUUU.

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – Don't worry, I'm definitely working on their relationship. I hope it satisfies your hunger!

Princess-RainbowRose – Mary Sues…(shivers in disgust) I've had one too many encounters with THEM. And, yes, some have found their way in my earlier fics. Luckily, with some good reviewers giving some tough love, I am now able to write characters like Hermia! (pats Hermia on the head. Hermia rolls her eyes in disgust and slaps hand away). Thank you for reviewing!!!!!

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Eight_

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"I need to talk with you, Mr. Valentine," a soft voice wormed into my dreams. Well, it wasn't a very good dream, anyway. I had found myself stuck in front of a jury of sphinxes on the crime of writing a very bad book that caused all of them to fall ill after eating it. It was a rather ridiculous dream, of course. I'm no writer any more than I am a waiter.

Anyway; so I'm have been quite rudely awakened by someone. As you can imagine, I'm very displeased by this, and grunt exasperatedly while trying to grasp onto the last shreds of sleep.

"_Valentine_," the voice snapped by my ear. I growled and opened my eyes groggily.

"AH—!" Laverna's have whipped out and cut off my startled yell. She was leaning over me, only a few inches from my face. Christ; that was the last thing _I _wanted to wake up to in the morning. She removed her hand from my mouth, looking irritated.

"Will you shut it?" she hissed. "Don't wake Hermia."

"What the bloody hell are you waking _me_ up for?" I retorted.

"I need to talk with you," she repeated, her voice a whisper as she snatched a glance at the still-sleeping Hermia.

"Can't it wait 'til morning?" I yawned. Laverna scowled as an answer. I sighed. "Fine. What is it that you need so desperately to talk about?"

"Follow me," was all she replied as she straightened and pulled me up, unwilling. The two of us walked toward the opposite side of the ditch, Laverna leading.

Hundreds of questions swirled around my mind; mainly pertaining to the reason Laverna needed to wake me and talk, and why she didn't want Hermia listening in. And Laverna seemed infuriatingly hesitant to oblige me with some answers as she was silent even though we were well out of Hermia's earshot.

"Well?" I urged, wanting to get back to sleep as soon as possible. Laverna looked at me, her lips pursed as if thinking, studying me. I waited, biting back my annoyance.

"I know we aren't on the best of terms," Laverna began slowly. I suppressed the urge to snort ironically. "But we know each other fairly well, I'd say. Right?"

"Fairly well," I agreed. A small turn of her head told me she was looking over at Hermia. After satisfied that she was asleep, she turned back to me.

"Then I would guess it wouldn't come as a surprise to you to know that _I_ know you turned the Creator in to the Queen," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Laverna must have caught the look on my face, because she added, smirking, "Oh, don't worry. I haven't told Hermia, or Barnaby or anyone. No; this can just be between you, me, and the Queen of Shadows."

"What are you getting at?" I asked, an unpleasant sort of thrill running up my spine. Laverna's masked face suddenly seemed sharp, shadowed, and frighteningly cunning.

"I know why you did it," she said empathetically. But I knew better. "I don't blame you, you know. People like you and me should never be controlled, and what you did was justifiable. But…" She tilted her head to the side in quite wicked curiosity. "I _do_ wonder, Valentine; why are you helping dear Hermia undo the very justice you established?"

"I kind of…got stuck with her," I said. I had been wondering the same question myself. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. "I tried shaking her off the hunt but she seems desperate to find her mum and get out of here."

"Hmm," Laverna mused, smiling silkily. "I assume, then, that you'll find my proposition mutually beneficial. Between the two of us, of course."

"Proposition?" I repeated slowly.

"Oh, your part in it is minimal, but I have to add that the…_rewards_—" she emphasized with a broad, suggestive grin, "—will be very satisfying. You _have _wanted another one of those charming hats of yours that you love so much, haven't you?"

A black fedora with nice gold trimming and a yellow feather popped into my thoughts. And it _was_ a very delicious thought.

"What is it that I have to do, then?" I asked.

"Basically what you're doing already," Laverna said lightly. "Winning over dear Hermia's trust."

"And why is that important?"

"Because in doing so, you'll be helping me in making sure the Creator stays safely in the world _she_ created and under the Queen's spell," she explained. She seemed to hesitate before, even more lightly, adding, "As well as keeping Hermia well away from any possible…_flaws_ in our plan."

"And does Barnaby know about this?" I asked. Laverna laughed derisively.

"Barnaby? Of course not." Her smirk was cattish. "Can you imagine that pompous, self-righteous ass cause the greatest change in this world? No. He's much better at pencil-pushing." Well, _that_ neatly explained her and Barnaby's less-than-ideal relationship. Laverna then daintily leaned in toward me. "You, however, have much more to offer, don't you? You and I are quite alike, you know. Self-preservation and satisfaction are our first priorities. Jewels, cakes, hats…all those wonderful treasures can be yours if you just do everything I tell you to do."

"And all I really have to do is keep Hermia from catching on?"

"Essentially, yes."

I thought about it for a second.

I really saw no downside to this, other than betraying Hermia's trust. I mean, it really wasn't all her fault that her mother was a control freak and didn't keep her little imagination to herself and then allowed it to run rampant through _my_ world. No, that wasn't Hermia's fault. She wasn't really any part in this, so why is Laverna making her a part of it? And why should I betray Hermia when she didn't do anything? A feeling a little too close to guilt tightened my stomach.

Well, she _will _be a part of it if she frees her mother. That's what I have to keep Hermia from doing. I have to remove her from the ability to set her mum free. It's for the greater good; people in this world are free, and Hermia doesn't run the risk from getting eaten by the Shadows.

She'll thank me later.

I think.

"Alright, I'm in," I said, sticking out my hand. A chilling smile from Laverna almost made me regret my decision as she took it. But then I thought about chocolate buttons and all was well. For the most part.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I don't know where I am," I murmured, flopping onto my parent's bed beside Mum. I lay on my stomach, watching her watching me. She really was quite beautiful; serene. A lot like Gran.

"You're in the place between dreams and awakenings," she said, smiling sadly and tucking a loose stand of hair behind her ear as she propped herself up on her elbow. The room was white, and soft-edged, and ever changing. Sometimes her drawings would be on the wall, and the next moment a full-length mirror replaced them. Or they would be lying down on the bed, but then the bed disappeared and they were lying on the floor. Even the pure whiteness of the room changed constantly from dim tan to a brilliant gold to pure white again. But I didn't really pay attention all that much. I was watching Mum's face, and her eyes. She seemed so sad, so helpless. I hated seeing her like that. You're not supposed to see your mum like that.

"How did you fall in love with Dad?" I asked, wanting to get her mind off of the fact that she was being controlled by some outside force. She told me she was able to keep more control of herself in the dream world, but maybe reminding her of Dad will make it easier. As I hoped, her face softened into a smile as she thought of my question. Maybe when I was younger I would have gagged with the mushy thoughts passing through her eyes, but now it was calming, distracting.

"Well," she said, grinning and turning onto her stomach like me. I'm not sure if there is an actual 'gossip pose', but Mum just went into one. "He joined our circus when I was about your age. He was a few years older than me, but he was very charming. He stole my heart in an instant with his goofy antics. You know your father." She sighed, smiling. "We started juggling together after the first two shows. Dad—I mean Grandpa—took turns with him until he just let the two of us juggle by ourselves.

"It was really something, you know. Juggling with the man you love. I didn't really know I was in love with Vince then. Well, I knew I loved him. I just didn't know I was _in love_ with him. He didn't tell me until later, but he loved me just as much, at the same time. Anyway, it was so calm when we juggled together. The music faded, the crowd vanished, and the masks disappeared. All I could hear was the light impact of the balls to our palms, and all I could see was him. Him and his bright, alive eyes."

She fell silent for a moment, her eyes hooded as she basked in her memory. Then she seemed to shake herself from it and smiled at me.

"I should get off of memory lane and let you get back to your own dreams," she told me, the sad look coming back into her eyes.

"I thought I was already dreaming," I said, wishing she hadn't stopped. She laughed.

"No, love, not really," she said, touching my cheek with her fingertips. I could barely feel them.

"How am I going to find you?" I whispered. She studied me, as if trying to make her mind up about something. She leaned in and murmured something in my ear.

"Upwards and onwards, love," she said. I opened my mouth to question her cryptic answer, but she laid a finger on my lips.

"Lie down and close your eyes," Mum told me simply. I rolled my eyes.

"But I'm not tired," I said, feeling very childish just doing so. She tweaked my nose in a very motherly way. I sighed and obliged, cushioning my head with my arm. I closed my eyes. Already I felt myself drifting into the dark, mindless void of sleep. The last I heard from Mum was her sweet voice murmuring a childhood lullaby she used to sing to me when I was very young;

_"Soft is the slip of the mind into dreams-_  
_The soul is awash to that swirling pool;_   
_Drift, dear dreamer, to Avalon's shore,_  
_Where pixies' play and witches' dance unlace_  
_Your earthly troubles evermore, e'ermore._  
_ Though all dreams must end, and journeys must too;_  
_Their whisper of magic will stay with you…"_

I woke up slowly, softly, to the low mutterings of Valentine as he tried to toss his juggling balls behind his back. They kept falling, invoking a quiet curse from their handler. I didn't move, as not to show him I was awake. I just watched him with my eyes cracked open a little. He was extremely focused. I'm not sure he even noticed his tongue was stuck out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, let alone that my eyes were on him.

"Hell," he hissed as one slipped off of his fingers and bounced toward me. He scrambled to get it before it hit me, but I shot out a hand and caught it before it did. He stopped abruptly, his mouth open a little in surprise.

"Morning," I told him, tossing the ball back.

"Er…mornin'," he replied. He paused, looked at his ball in his hand, and then back at me. "I thought you were asleep."

"A common mistake," I shrugged before sitting up and stretching my muscles, sore from sleeping on hard ground. I looked up. Strangely, the light coming from the hole at the top of the ditch was dimmer than it had been last night.

"Ready to go?" Laverna asked, clapping her hands together and smiling. She was propped up on her elbow, much like my mum in my dream, or whatever it was.

"Yeah," I said, standing up. I pushed up the sleeves of Valentine's robe.

"Should we, like, stand back or something?" she smirked. I rolled my eyes, and a look of friendly disgust came over her face. "I was just wondering."

"Right," I sneered before closing my eyes and concentrating. It was harder to find that bubble of energy this time; probably because I wasn't running for my life. It took quite a bit of focus, but finally I felt this strange tingling in my temples. "A ladder," I muttered, turning to the hole. "A big, metal ladder that reached all the way up there; our only escape." And as I watched, to metal rods sprung from the ground like some sort of alien plants. They stopped, parallel to each other, at the mouth of the ditch. With clear, metallic _cling_ing sound, rungs sprouted from the rods and connected at regular intervals. A few seconds later it was finished, and I wiped the beads of sweat that had formed on my forehead. I felt like I had sprinted about half a kilometer.

"You alright?" Laverna asked.

"Better than last time," I said dryly. "C'mon, let's get out of here." The three of us scaled the ladder and finally exited the ditch.

My mouth dropped open as I surveyed the Neutral Lands in front of us.

"What…happened?" I rasped. The pale yellow plains had been reduced to burnt wisps and grey, cracked stone. As I looked farther, toward the City of Light, I took a sharp intake of breath.

It had been basically reduced to rubble. The three of us looked on in silence.

"The Shadows must have done this," Valentine said grimly.

"Well no shit, Sherlock," I said weakly. A sudden rush of desperate adrenalin picked up my heart rate. I had to get Mum back. She had to fix this. An angry snarl pulled at my lips. "This is all her fault; that _Queen of Shadows_, or whatever the bloody hell she calls herself. Stealing my mother, massacring, destroying…this has to _stop_." My fingers dug into my palms as I curled them into fists. I looked toward the Land of Shadows. "We need to get going. Now."

Laverna and Valentine stayed silent as I roughly took my velvet bag off my shoulder and pulled out the map. I opened it, looking for the Tree of Whispers; the closest landmark that I would know of. A tiny illustration of a tree with its label was marked about halfway between the borders. I looked up again. The Tree of Whispers was probably only a blackened, dead trunk now. I gritted my teeth and glanced back down at the map. The Palace was in the middle of a tangled, menacing-looking forest in about a north-easternish direction. I snapped the book closed and began walking.

Valentine hesitantly caught up to my quick, furious pace.

"Getting angry isn't going to do you any good, you know," he said. "What's done is done."

"Well, I'm going to _fix_ it," I hissed. "And I will _undo_ what's done." We were both silent for a few minutes. He seemed fairly uncomfortable, so I toned my fury down a bit and tried to change the mood. "I dreamed of my Mum again." I thought I saw him tighten his jaw, but the rest of his face seemed relatively calm. "She told me about how she met my dad." Valentine was staring off somewhere. I don't think he was paying attention, but I talked anyway. Something about the way he threw the ball he had taken out of his pocket from side to side made me loosen my tongue. I didn't really care if I was more or less talking to myself. Laverna seemed to be listening to my babbling, but she didn't look too interested. But I started telling Valentine about how my mum fell in love with my dad, and somehow or another, I started talking about my childhood at the circus.

"I begged my Mum to put me in that gymnastics class for weeks, but she kept telling me we didn't have the money for it, and we were about to move to another city anyway," I was saying, absent-mindedly fingering one of the little tassels hanging off of Valentine's robe. "I was furious; I tried everything. Even bribing wasn't under me at that point. But even my tight-walleted mum had to give in when I nearly killed myself practicing on this old, crumbly wall in this trailer park in Devon. Every summer my parents paid for me to go to this one gym camp. I think they were partially happy to have me off their bloody hands." I chuckled. "I was one of those kids who tried to grow up too fast. I mean, I was the only person in my pre-school class that insisted there was no Santa Claus!" My chuckle faded. "My parents kept pushing me to stay a kid, though. I hated it for a while, but now I have to thank them. Heaven knows what I would be like if Mum let me wear makeup when I was ten—"

"I never knew my real mother," Valentine suddenly cut in softly, catching me off-guard. I blinked a few times.

"Really?" I asked hesitantly.

"Well, I had a mother, but I don't think she was much a 'mum'," he said. "She told me to eat my vegetables and taught me how to tie my shoes and all that, but she never lo—" He cleared his throat strangely. "She never liked me all that much." He paused. "She bought me from a man. Probably my father." He said it calmly, but there was a sharpness about it that betrayed his stoicism.

"That's…awful," I said, my brows furrowed; a mixture of pity and confusion in my voice. "Why?" Valentine shrugged.

"Who knows why people do what they do?" he said. "Who knows why you would go on and on about your life, and how your mom and dad fell in lo—fell for each other." There it was again; that hesitation. He was hesitating to say 'love'? Why?

"You could always ask why," I said.

"People don't like talking about stuff like that," he said blandly. "They don't want to ruin that perception of their perception of people."

"Or because they don't want to open up to any uncomfortable silences."

"That, too." Pause. "Then why did you just talk to me like that?" I bit my lip.

"If I said it was because you weren't paying attention, would you laugh?"

"Not really. It's not that humorous. I do that a lot. Talk to meself, I mean," he said. I smiled. "Not all the time!" he said defensively. I laughed. He looked disgruntled.

"It's alright," I pacified. He sighed torturedly and waved his hands around in defeat. I chuckled. I loved the way he expressed himself and his train of thought. The mask made it easy for him to hide behind, but his quirky hand motions and his expressive mouth were…truthful, in a way.

Oh, yes. He had a lot of secrets; that I could gather fairly quickly. That's why I wasn't all to keen on trusting him at first; allowing him to come with me. He was a strange fellow, Valentine. He seemed to be completely easy with sudden, random, deep conversations about himself and other people…but then you hit a wall. It was like he skirted around the edges of a question that bothered him. His odd body language stopped, and he became like…a regular person.

Someone who would rather lie than talk about uncomfortable subjects.

Like when I pried a bit about his adoptive mother; he definitely wasn't all that ready to delve into _that_ subject, and yet he had brought it up. Why?

"So…ah…your family has a circus?" Valentine said. "And you're in the shows as well?"

"Kind of," I told him. "I work the matinee pre-shows for about five minutes. I'm building myself up to be one of the main walkers. One step at a time."

"A step twenty feet in the air," he remarked, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly.

"That, too, of course," I agreed. A slightly uneasy silence fell between us, each not knowing what to say to the other. Luckily, Laverna took the opportunity to come up on the other side of me and sling an arm around my shoulder compatriot-like.

"So, do we have any plans on how to storm the castle?" she asked with a fake brightness, the dimples on her cheeks making her grin look more ironic than cute. "Or are we to improvise?"

"Worse comes to worse, Hermia can just materialize a cannon and blow a hole in the wall," Valentine suggested.

"There's always that," I grinned weakly, my mind searching for a less…_conspicuous _line of attack as we finally approached the border of the Land of Shadows.

I've got to admit, the border to the Dark Lands was pretty appropriate. For one, it was very dark and shadowy, with a large, lopsided sign that told us we were entering the Land of Shadows. It was also bordered by a very thick, very sinister-looking forest. I took a breath of encouragement and stepped over the very clearly marked black line that indicated the border.

"You shall not pass!"

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**Author's Note**: Sorry for the late update again!!!! I do have exams; two more. And on….Thursday or Friday I'm leaving for vacation until Monday. I'll try to get another chapter up by then. Patience is a virtue!!!!!

REVIEWWWWWW PLEEEEEEEEEEEASE!!!!!

I have…toast.


	9. Riddled With Obstacles

**Author's Note:** I KNOW! I KNOW! I FINALLY UPDATED! The reason I haven't for so long was that my computer battery broke, and I had to wait for FOREVER to order a new one online. I've also been out of town on vacation, and now I'm in Canada because a family member just passed away. But I've finally got my laptop up and running, so here's the 9th chapter. FINALLY!

**Reviewers:**

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – Well, I did pretty well on finals All As and Bs and one C. Damn Spanish. XD And yesh. I am thoroughly enjoying Val/Hermia love meself.

Princess Rainbow-Rose – OMG. HARRY POTTER. 7TH BOOK. AMAZING.

Dylan – YOU! I love you. Chocolate buttons.

Aleala150 – Valentine is a crafty, selfish character, and I love him for it!

Sabriel – Seriously, I'd love you if you do it. It'd give me more people to review!!! XD Bwahaha.

FireEyes – I shall write more!

Sonata – Haha. I actually never saw that connection. XD I feel sheepish. Baaaaa. But I'm glad to get some adult reviewers that like my story. I hate overdone, stale sotries as much as the next person.

SkwerlsGirlForeveranEver – See FireEyes. XD

Britney – I know what you mean! I always get all excited when a new mirrormask fic pops up!

_**Walking On Air**_

_Chapter Nine_

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It was a gryphon. Wonderful. I suppose that meant I was expected to answer some sort of riddle.

"Answer my riddle correctly, you may go safely. Answer wrong, and I devour you, bones and all."

Well, that answers _that_ question.

Figures that Mum had to add a riddling cat right where _I_ needed to go. Sure, Mum was good at riddles. She was fantastic at them. I, on the other hand, could never get my mind to stretch out past that proverbial box. I couldn't solve a riddle to save my life.

This was cruelly ironic, if you think about it.

"Riddle. Right…erm, go on then," I said, smiling weakly. I cast a nervous look in Laverna's direction. She had a much more confident air than I had at any rate. Maybe she could help.

"What is it that everything has?" the gryphon asked.

"A name."

I turned, surprised, toward Laverna, who was grinning widely. The gryphon looked put out; disappointed his riddle was solved so quickly. He grudgingly stepped aside, his wings fluttering in restless irritation. _Well. That solved our problem pretty quickly_, I thought with an exhale of relief as Valentine and I went after Laverna.

"You shall not pass," the gryphon stated sharply, stepping in front of us.

"What are you doing? We solved your bloody riddle," Valentine said.

"Correction; _she_ solved the riddle," the cat replied smugly. "One per person, I'm afraid. No helpers." I grit my teeth in frustration. Wonderful. _Now_ what was I going to do?

That nasty sense of control of the situation slipping from my grasp crept up my spine like so many icy fingers. I began to do something that everyone who starts to lose grip on a situation does; something I _never _did.

I prayed. I prayed, to whatever Riddle God or Goddess out there who might be listening to my dreams, that I would be given some miraculous spark of inspiration.

"Fine. Give us your next riddle," I said, trying to keep my mind from straying to that certain train of thought.

"What came first, the chicken or the egg?"

Valentine's face blanched. His face jerked toward me, as if checking to see if some sort of enlightenment had dawned upon my unmasked face. Tough luck for him.

"Oh, c'mon, that question has been asked for ages. There is no answer to it!" I said.

"Is that your answer?" The gryphon bared its fangs eagerly. I recoiled.

"Um…no," I replied hastily. I turned to Valentine, who seemed deep in thought. At least, he was frowning slightly and stroking his chin. He could have just been examining the dark, twisted tree over the gryphon's shoulder.

"How on earth can we answer a question like that? People have gone around in circles, with no end to that ridiculous question," I fumed in a low hiss. Valentine agreed with a soft grunt. Then, his frown disappeared, replaced by a jaw dropped by surprise.

"That's it," he rasped, spinning on his heel to face the gryphon. "I believe the answer is, 'a circle has no beginning'." It only glared at him and stepped aside again, ears laid back. A huge, relieved grin broke onto Valentine's mouth as his quickly crossed the border to join Laverna.

"How did you…?" I started, but then stopped, my eyes landing again on the gryphon, who was staring at me with a frighteningly intense gaze.

"Are you ready for the last riddle?" it asked silkily, its eyes hungry. I nodded. If Valentine is going to get a riddle, I certainly can. I squared my defiantly; contrary to my true emotions, of course. The gryphon smirked at me in a way that sent shivers down my spine. I was starting to get the impression that this beast knew the whole time I was a bad riddler. His kind could probably smell one a mile away, I thought dryly. I looked at Laverna and Valentine, who were waiting on the other side. Valentine gave me a (thoroughly helpless) smile and a thumbs-up.

"If you got it you want to share it, if you share it you haven't got it," the cat said, inspecting its claws…in a menacing way, if you ask me.

I took a deep breath. _You can do this, Hermia,_ I told myself._ The other ones were obvious. Hell, you were on the right track to the last one. _Damn Valentine. At least he could have been a gentleman and let me figure it out…Ach! Stay on track, woman! Okay. _Think._ Is it…a bag of crisps? Eh. No. Maybe…a mask. No, that doesn't make sense at all. Maybe it's—what the hell is Valentine doing?

He was waving wildly at me, nearly jumping in silent eagerness.

'What?' I mouthed. He then violently shook his head and signaled for me to keep my gaze on the gryphon. I did, utterly confused. He was obviously trying to tell me something, so why was he now telling me to look at the gryphon—wait. Was he trying to give me an answer?

"Given up?" the gryphon drawled.

"I'm thinking," I snapped.

"Well, I'm hungry, so hurry up," he replied, unfazed, and going back to inspecting his claws. I took my chance to look at Valentine. He began mouthing something. Unfortunately, I'm just as good at lip-reading as I am at riddles. I shot him a confused look.

'Seh-grah?' I mouthed back. At least I could tell it was two syllables. He threw his hands in the air in frustration. He then repeated the first syllable slowly, pointing to his eyes and then forward.

Seh…sah…oh! See! Wait; see—grah? That doesn't make any—But then I watched Valentine pronounce the second syllable. Wait…that word ends with a hard consonant. A 'd' maybe? See—grad…see—krad…see—krat…see…cret. Secret! That's the answer! Is it? Or…does Val want me to get eaten? My company certainly isn't his favorite to be in, that's for sure.

Can I trust him?

Well, 'a secret' makes sense as the answer. If worse comes to worst, I'll make it an answer and say that it's the better on of the two.

Before I'm mauled, of course.

"Erm…is the answer a—a secret?" I said in a low voice, my heart beating in my throat.

"No, of course not!" the gryphon declared, rolling its eyes. My breath caught.

"It's…not?" I squeaked. The gryphon looked at me strangely.

"No. Don't worry; I'll tell you the answer when you guess wrong. Before I eat you, anyway," he replied lightly. I blinked a few times.

"I just answered it," I said slowly. The gryphon raised an eyebrow.

"You did? I guess I didn't hear it. What is you guess, then?"

"I told you, it's a secret," I said.

"I'm telling you; you might as well guess. Who knows? You might get lucky."

"What are you talking—?"

"What she means, I think, Mr. Gryphon," Valentine cut in. "Is that the answer is the word 'secret'." He emphasized with using his fingers as quotation marks. "Not that she can't say the answer."

"Oh. Well, erm. Yes, that's the right answer," the cat said, looking foolish. "You may pass."

"Thanks," I replied ironically. Disappointed and obviously furious with himself for not being able to thwart three trespassers, the feline border guard turned its back on us, muttering to himself furiously. The three of us quickly headed into the forest before the gryphon decided to take revenge. As soon as we were a good way into it, I turned and threw my arms enthusiastically around Valentine, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Oh my God…Valentine, I don't know how to thank you," I blurted, the shock of my near-death-experience finally slamming into me. "I'd be catnip if it wasn't for you." I then took a step away from him, holding him at arm's length. His masked face showed every bit of surprise as it possibly could. I barely registered it. "But…how did you figure it out so quickly?"

"I'm wondering the same thing, Valentine," Laverna said, looking amused. "Even _I _couldn't figure it out."

"That's because it was _my_ riddle," he replied in an absent kind of tone, still staring at me curiously. "The, erm…cat from Giants Orbiting probably took it and shared it." I then realized that his attention wasn't on my face, but at my hands holding his arm right under the elbow. A few insights hit me at once.

I was suddenly aware that this is the first time I have touched Valentine's bare arms. I could tell that he was thin. But at the same time, his arms felt strong, wiry.

I was also aware of just how close we were; so close, I could catch his scent. It wasn't unpleasant. He smelled like—

Cotton candy.

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She smelled nice. And her hands were warm. Soft, too, come to think of it. She had long, thin fingers that were wrapped gently around my forearm. I had a wild yearning to touch the smooth, delicate-looking skin under her wrist. But I was frozen stiff by her contact.

For a few moments, that was all I _could _think of. Until Hermia slowly let go of me and broke the spell. Maybe it was just from adrenaline, but I could swear her face was taking on a slight pink tint. A cough that came from over Hermia's shoulder suddenly reminded me of Laverna's presence. There was a cold, hard look on her face that was anything but jealousy. It was a warning. I hastily took a step back from Hermia.

"Well, you're certainly welcome," I said, surprised to hear how confident and laid-back my voice was. It didn't sound the least bit…uncomfortable. My old smirk found itself on my mouth. "But this only means you owe me two saves in life-threatening situations." Hermia gave me another one of her strange looks. Good God, she might as well have a mask; her face allows feelings to come through as clearly as the Black Sea would. Well, assuming the Black Sea is, indeed, black. Which it probably isn't. A misnomer, most likely.

"Thanks, Val," Hermia said dryly. "I'll remember that the next time you need a favor. 'You can't get something for nothing', isn't it?"

"C'mon you two," Laverna interjected. "We need to get moving."

"Right. Onward and upwards," I said, flourishing my arm up toward the dark, thickly overgrown path. As we headed through the shadowed, menacing undergrowth and towering, blackened trees, I noticed that Hermia had her head cocked to the side, staring at me.

"What?"

"My mum said that all the time," she said. "'_Onward and upwards'_. Did you get it from her?" I snorted derisively.

"Me? Get it from _her_?" I exclaimed. "I've never heard her utter it once while I was with her! If anything, she picked it up from _me_."

"How did you come to know her in the first place?" Hermia asked.

"Helena never, ah, spoke of the first time she entered this world?" I asked tentatively.

"She talked about this world, but never the adventures _she_ had in it," she said. "How often did she visit?" I suppressed a wince, forcing my face to keep relaxed.

"Only that one time," I told her lightly. "And that was to save the White Queen-slash-her mother, too, ironically enough."

"How'd she bump into you?"

"Well, that_ is_ an interesting story," I mused. She smiled at me expectantly.

"We do have time, if the map is right and we don't stumble into any Shadows," she urged. I thought about it. It's easy enough to leave out the more…unsavory parts. I could just say Helena had been kidnapped when I was looking for help. There. Easy. And when I found out she was gone, I had run to her rescue like a heroic knight. I can play the good guy when I want to.

Anyway, by the time Hermia found out the truth, I would be miles away from her accusing eyes with my fedora and pockets filled to the brim with precious, sparkling jewels. Business as usual.

I pushed away that uncomfortable fluttering feeling in my stomach.

"Well, the first time I met Helena, she was distracting my little company of performers while we were practicing. Then I had to save her from the Shadows, letting it devour my troupe in the process. A confused girl, Helena was. She didn't recognize her own world until she was already deep inside the streets of the City of Light."

"Did she recognize you?" Hermia suddenly interjected.

"No, I don't think she did," I said blandly. "Anyway, she coincidentally arrived just after the White Queen fell into a sleep that no one could wake her out of. I never asked her, but I think the White Queen had some connection to Helena's mother. She was always muttering something about her mum whenever the Queen was brought up." I paused in my story, mulling over this fact for a second. "Well, we had to find this Princess, who was suspected of upsetting the balance. This same Princess is the Queen of Shadows at the present, actually. Anyway, Helena dragged me all over the City of Light trying to find the key to restore the balance; the Mirrormask.

"Of course, we were on the run from the Shadows and sphinxes the whole time, so Helena didn't have much time to stop and wonder where exactly the Mirrormask was. Come to think of it, she was more interested in looking through windows to junk rooms. Well, all we had to go on was a key we picked up, and the testimony from a crazy, old Mask Shop woman. Somehow, we found ourselves on the border, and Helena had this crazy idea to create a little dome in the middle of a pool and what do you know? There was a pillar of key-holes. Unfortunately, the Princess was beginning to destroy the drawings that could be used to take her back into _this_ world, so we ended up smack dab in the middle of the Land of Shadows, and Helena with a dislocated shoulder—"

"Wait a second, where was the Princess?" Hermia asked, looking a little lost.

"Oh, I forgot. I later found out she had stolen the Mirrormask and used it to go into Hermia's—your—world. In the meantime, though, I went to get help," I said. Well, now comes the easy part; summing up to the happy ending. "But before I could find someone, I realized that she had been kidnapped and brainwashed by the Queen of Shadows. Something about making Helena her daughter's replacement. So I was able to sneak into the castle, and found a way to break the spell." I paused, just like any good storyteller, waiting for the eager response—

"How'd you do it?" she asked with a wondering grin on her face.

"Why, by juggling of course!" I exclaimed. Hermia chuckled, shaking her head, her eyes fixed on mine. I could almost physically feel the sheer intensity of her attention on me, as if I was the only one in the world. It almost unnerved me, but in a strangely pleasant sort of way. "How else? As soon as the spell wore off, though, we were stumped on what to do next. We had no idea where the Mask could be, and time was running out as we overheard the Queen's Councils discussing bizarre disappearances of land. Finally Helena got the brilliant idea to check the mirror of the Princess's room.

"She was right; we finally had the Mirrormask! But then we had to go find a window; one that hadn't been crumpled up by the Princess. We tried to escape the castle without the Queen noticing, but unluckily a servant had seen us running away. We thought we were cornered; Helena was to come back and be enchanted again, and I…well, I was to be executed." I sighed in a theatrically pity-inspiring sort of way. "Then, I was reminded by Helena that I had a flying tower. I tried calling Her with our signal, but She didn't come. We had a bit of a spat a few days before, you see. Tower was being life-threateningly stubborn, so I had to do something that I hated doing. I forced myself to apol—" I nearly gagged on the word. "—apologize.

"Just in the nick of time, Tower swooped down and saved us from the Shadowy clutches of the Queen. We found a window, but the Princess got to it before we did. I remember everything went dark. But just as all hope was lost, Helena remembered the one window the Princess couldn't have crumpled. She said there was a window on a door in her world, on top of her building. Stumbling through the darkness, the two of us made our way to the top of Tower. Just as Helena said, there was a window at the top of the stairs to the roof."

I stopped then for a bit, at a lost for words to explain what happened next.

"And then?" Laverna urged.

"Well, that was it," I shrugged. "She switched places with the Princess and I ended up having to drag her back to the Land of Shadows before high-tailing it back to the City of Light before I was killed."

"And she never came back," Laverna stated. I had the suspicion that she didn't clarify who she was speaking of on purpose. I think I was the only one who caught the sly tone in her voice as those cat-eye holes in her mask faced me. After a moment she turned to Hermia. "I guess you could tell us what happened afterward." Hermia shrugged apologetically.

"I never even heard this story. The earliest event that occurred after, or before, that adventure that I heard of was when Mum met my dad," she told us. Her eyes flickered curiously to me.

"What?" I asked, uneasy.

"Nothing," she replied, a little too quickly for me to believe it. But I let it pass. She obviously didn't want to tell me what's on her mind. It's none of my business anyway, but I had this strange wish that she could tell me. It was if I wanted her to trust me, which was ridiculous, of course. She couldn't trust me as far as she could throw me, I knew that, and I think even Hermia knew that at some level.

"So…ah, where are we?" Laverna asked. Hermia took out the map from the velvet bag and opened it, flipping through a couple pages before stopping, her finger running down the page. I stepped closer to look at it over her shoulder.

"We're close to a landmark called the 'Lucid Fountain'," she said. "There's also a few mansions owned by Shadow Council members close by. We might want to lay low going around their places."

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything but lay low in this place," I commented darkly. Hermia jumped a little in surprise. I guess she hadn't realized I was right behind her. Then she did something strange; she took a deep breath in through her nose, her head cocked toward me, her face relaxing. Was she…_smelling_ me? Normally, the simple_ idea_ of this would have caused me to laugh, but a warm feeling filled my chest as I slowly stepped back. I acted as if I hadn't noticed, but she seemed to be avoiding looking at me, her expression sheepish. I quickly glanced at Laverna to see if she detected the awkward moment. If she had, she didn't express it.

"The Fountain is on the way to the Palace, and then there's a few blank spots marked 'unknown' after it," Hermia said.

"Yeah, I don't like the sound of that," I said. "Let's choose a different route, shall we?"

"Unless we have the time to circle all the way to the front of the Palace, which wouldn't be a good idea if we wanted to sneak in, we're going to have to risk it," she replied.

"As if we're not risking enough at the moment," I said dryly.

"Oh, don't be such a coward, Valentine," Hermia said, rolling her eyes. I flinched, but this time it wasn't because of the eye-rolling. It was her calling me a 'coward'. Yes, I know I am a coward, and she had called me one before, but it stung for some reason. I wanted to argue with her, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Cool it, the both of you," Laverna said. "Valentine, we're going to have to take that risk if we want to have a chance to save—"

But Laverna was cut off by an ominous and familiar rumbling behind us.

"Shadows," Hermia voiced my fear. "Run." She didn't have to say it twice. The three of us bolted into the skeletal trees just as the Shadows oozed into the clearing behind us. I kept an eye on my robe flapping around Hermia's ankles as we tired to outrun the Shadows.

But somehow they were catching up. The roar became almost glass-shattering as it neared us.

"Valentine! Hermia!" Laverna yelled, motioning us to follow her. She disappeared as soon as I caught a glimpse of her. Hermia and I ran in her direction.

"Laverna, where—" I was cut off when something grabbed my leg. I crashed into a bush, Hermia not far behind. I flailed wildly to get away from what grabbed me, but Laverna hissed at me to shush and I stilled. The Shadows came into view as the three of us crouched low under the bush. It slowed as it came closer to our hiding place. My heart was pounding with fear, and one look at Hermia told me her reserve of control was dwindling as well. She crept closer toward me, as if to reassure herself I was there for her protection. It was an odd idea; she told me herself I wasn't much protection.

Then, as if the Shadows made up its mind that we weren't there, leached by. The sound of it made my nose wrinkle in disgust. As soon as it was way out of sight, all three of us sighed audibly in relief.

"Everything is going to be fine," Laverna said in an irritatingly calm tone.

"Great," I drawled, my heart still pounding. "I'll remember that the next time we're about to be eaten by a _giant man-eating black blob._"

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**Author's Note: Again, sorry for the super-lat update!!!!!!! I'll be a good girl from now on, I promise! **


	10. Lucidity

**Author's Note:** Bleh. School's a bitch. Soccer on top of choir on top of homework is not the least stressful mix. Trigonometry….egh.

**Reviewers:**

Princess-RainbowRose—Actually, if you watch the commentary by Neil Gaiman (the screenwriter) and Dave McKean, THEY call it a gryphon. I'm just keeping to canon, dear. Hmm. Personally I think he would smell like cotton candy and apple cider.

Dylan—Heh. I never really thought it was THAT funny. XD

Phyllis Joy Wolfe—FIXING NOW! Haha.

Book-manga-freak—GET DEH MOVIE! XD I missed you too! I could have watched mirrormask with you! I brought it with me. Hehe.

HellionKyou—No prob. Thanks for the review!!

Padfootz-luvr—Thanks so much! I've watched the movie over and over again, and I still don't get tired of the amazing imagery in it. It's beautiful. I only wished there was more Valentine. XP

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter 10_

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"So, have any of you heard of this 'Lucid Fountain'?" I asked. Valentine shrugged.

"I have," Laverna said. "It came here about thirteen years ago while the cities were still being rebuilt. People have learned to avoid it, though. It has a nasty reputation for disappearances."

"What does it do?" Valentine asked. Laverna lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"There haven't been any witnesses," she replied absently, making it sound quite ominous. Valentine's face jerked towards mine.

"Do you think we might be able to, you know, skirt around this fountain?" he asked, trying to sound hopeful.

"Not if you want to be shish kabob-ed by the Cutlass Bramble bushes," I replied darkly. Valentine grimaced. "Yeah. The first thing I'll do when I see my mum is ask her why she had to make the Land of Shadows so bloody impassable."

"Well, if you think about it, it makes sense. She never expected to have her daughter tramping through this bat-infested place. Blasted artists never consider anything outside their own reality. We _normal_ people have to live with their carelessly-placed 'Lucid Fountains', and brambles and sphinxes on a daily basis. Has _Helena _ever had to wait in two hours of traffic because of a fish backup? Has _she_ ever dealt with bad-tempered, rejected books pushing her legs out from under her while on a simple stroll down the street? I think not!" His lips were pursed together with contempt, arms crossed.

"You finished?" I asked blankly.

"With what?"

"Your belly-aching. It's rather depressing, you know," I told him, turning back to the map. We were not far from the Fountain now.

"_You_ try living here for a few decades and see how satisfied _you_ are with your life," he muttered.

"Well, if you're so unhappy with your life, that's your fault, not my mother's," I snapped.

"No, I do believe it _is _her fault. She has kept a leash on me for _thirty years_," Valentine snarled back. "The most fun I could find was having tea and cakes with that old Mask lady. All because—" He suddenly cut off, his face hard as stone, looking down at the ground, jaw tight with suppressed anger.

I was taken aback. It was sort of obvious he had some sort of vendetta against my mum, but I thought it was more or less one-sided. If what he was saying was true, that meant Mum had purposefully kept Valentine from getting into mischief; which was justifiable. But then, what had he done to deserve that?

"Because—?" I wheedled, a little more harshly then I intended.

"Valentine's known for his restless hands," Laverna cut in with an almost forced smirk. "The Creator probably wished to keep Val here from using his more…illicit talents as to disrupt—"

"I am _not_ a thief!" Valentine growled. "The only reason you insist on that idea is because your tight-arsed high society decrees that anyone who doesn't own a state-owned job is a pickpocket and a rogue. Granted, I'm a shadowy character at best, but I am _not_ a thief."

"You're right, Valentine," Laverna said, her voice unnaturally apologetic. "There are a lot worse things a person can be than a thief." Something dark passed over Valentine's masked face, and it wasn't a bat. But it quickly passed back into his previously light grimace.

"The fact of the matter is that perhaps there is some silver lining to this cloud of Helena's imprisonment," Valentine said cautiously. "I mean, since she can't use her power, I'm free now." My jaw dropped in appalled astonishment.

"You—" I stuttered in anger. "I can't—you know, if I had to choose between your freedom and my mum's, I'd pick Mum's a billion times over! Bloody 'silver lining'…did you _see_ what happened to the City of Light? The Tree of Whispers? People are _dead_, Valentine, and all you can think about is _yourself?_" He wouldn't face me as I scolded him. He only winced at every fact I spat at him. "If this is your true character, I wish you _were_ restrained. Your selfishness is disgusting, Valentine. I thought you better than that." I added the last part to myself than anything.

I just realized we had stopped walking. The air itself seemed to have become still; the forest was holding its breath. I looked at Valentine, expecting an unapologetic scoff and argument. My rage drained a bit when I saw him turned slightly away from me (I could only see half of his face), his lips tight and the back of his neck flushed red, his left hand unconsciously rubbing the top of his right arm.

This defeated silence was worse than his infuriating selfish rant. He was angry, but I don't think it was all directed towards me. I snatched a glance at Laverna. She had this sharply condescending look about her mouth as she watched him.

I suddenly felt extremely foolish. He wasn't that selfish, really. Feeling embarrassed, I took a couple steps toward him as to face him. If I could see his eyes, I would think they were avoiding mine. More than usual, anyway.

"That was harsh," I said quietly, my eyes darting to my bare, scratched feet. "I don't have the right to judge you. I'm…" My jaw gave a compulsory clench before I finished. Valentine made a face, finally raising his face enough for me to guess he was looking at mine.

"Please don't," he said.

"But—"

"I don't want to hear it. Skip right to forgetting," he said with a stiff grin. I said nothing, but my conscience itched, whispering to me that I should do something to show that all was fine between us.

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_You're just like your mother,_ I thought sullenly as I let myself fall back a bit to avoid Hermia's presence.

Helena wasn't the best judge of character, either.

Laverna dropped back a little as well, leveling herself with me. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck prick.

_What are you doing?_ she mouthed, her cat eyes looking more sinister than usual.

_What?_ I asked. She gritted her teeth and pointed at Hermia.

_She's going to get suspicious, _Laverna told me, alliterating with her hands. I shook my head.

_Discuss it later,_ I suggested, picking up the pace a little more as to discourage Laverna from pushing the issue further so close to Hermia.

The flutter of the occasional bat and creak of the twisted trees was all that could be heard for the next few minutes as we made our way deeper into the forest. Suddenly, a strange sort of hum began to vibrate through the air.

"Do you hear that?" I asked. Hermia had her head cocked to the side, a disconcerted look on her face.

"Yeah," she said faintly.

"Are you okay, Hermia?" Laverna asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. Hermia blinked repeatedly, and then seemed to come to her senses. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, her voice not as distant now. I looked through the trees in from of us. There was a dark shape in the trees that I could hardly make out, but I could guess that was the source of the humming.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm not receiving the best of ideas about this place," I muttered.

"Let's just get past it as quickly as possible," Hermia said. "We're about half way to the Palace now."

The three of us sped up the pace a bit. My legs were unusually tired. I supposed it was because we had been walking for hours. Strange, though. I had been fine minutes ago.

On either side of us were these sickly green bushes. The leaves were broad, flat, and cruelly sharp. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I could have sworn there were dark splotches on the edges. I hoped it was only rust. In any case, we made sure to give the bushes a wide berth.

As the trees began to thin in front of us, the dark shape grew more distinctive, and the soothing tinkle of water indicated to us that it was, in fact, a fountain.

Hermia's eyes widened with shock as we came into complete view of the Lucid Fountain.

Bodies, a good twenty of them, lay still on the ground surrounding it. The three of us took a simultaneous step back, almost into the Cutlass Brambles.

"Are they…dead?" Hermia managed to breathe, as if afraid to startle whatever had done this. Her cool control that had been slipping ever since the Shadows tried to consume us slipped another couple notches.

"No," Laverna muttered, cautiously kneeling and examining a young girl in a pink-spotted, white mask. "They're asleep. Or in a coma, but I don't think the fountain clocked them over the head."

The strange humming grew louder, and I felt a fog drifting across my senses. The ground suddenly looked very comfortable.

"Cover your ears, now!" Laverna barked, her hands flying to her own. My arms were like lead weights by then, but I was able to pull them up to clamp my hands tightly over my ears. The effect was almost instant; the buzzing hum grew to a barely audible noise, and the fog dissipated.

Then I saw Hermia crumple into a heap at my feet. I swore.

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I felt so tired. My mind seemed to be shutting down, and darkness was creeping across my vision. It had started before Valentine and Laverna began to feel the effects, so I suppose the Fountain's lull was more potent to me.

For a moment I caught a glimpse of places I've always wanted to visit; Australia, the Caribbean, New York City, India. But then it settled on a more familiar place—my parent's circus. I found myself in front of the tent, in my favorite gold and purple leotard. I took a few steps back with care as a hand pulled back the flap. The figure was cast in the shadowy twilight, and the dim spotlights from inside the big top silhouetting him.

"Hello?" I ventured. The person jumped a bit and faced me directly.

"Hermia? What are you doing here? You're supposed to be inside, preparing for your act. You're up in five minutes!"

"Dad?" I exclaimed in surprise as the familiar voice and face of my father came into view. Strange, he reminded me of someone…

"C'mon, we have to find your mother, too. She was here a few minutes ago and just ran off," he said. His brows knitted together in uncharacteristic worry. "She seemed frightened. Do you have any idea what's gotten into her?"

"Dad, Mum's in trouble, she's been—" I stopped. I couldn't remember _what _had happened, or why she was in trouble.

"Was she with you? Where have _you_ been?" he asked. I opened my mouth to answer, but, strangely, it didn't come to me.

"I…can't remember…wait!" A flash of a face passed through my mind's eye. "Valentine…the two—no, three—of us were looking for something, or someone. Dad, what's going on? I was in one place, and I can't remember how I got here."

"Well, I wouldn't know! You've been running off without telling me or your mother. Come to think of it, I haven't seen you since this morn—" He froze, as if remembering something important. Then, to my horror, he began to flicker and fade.

"Dad, NO!" I yelled, grabbing for his arm. He solidified almost instantly. Blinking furiously with his mouth gaping open, he stared at me. "What the hell just happened?"

"I'm dreaming," he said in a steady, firm voice that didn't match his pale face. "I've had these kinds of dreams before. I'm having a lucid dream."

"Lucid…" My mouth dropped open as a flood of memories hit me. I smacked myself on the forehead for forgetting just as a strange lurch made my surroundings swim. I distantly heard my dad yell and felt a tug as I was sent lurching back into him. I exhaled, trying to calm my racing heart.

"How can you be in my dreams?" he wondered aloud, not looking all that afraid even though his daughter just about flickered out of existence.

"There was…this fountain…I need to get back!" I blurted out. "Mum's been captured, that's why she disappeared this morning. I've been trying to reach her…there's not a hell of a lot of time to explain, Dad, just let me go." Bewildered, he let go of my arm. He was silent for a moment.

"Captured?" he muttered.

"Yes, it's a long story, I'll tell you when I get back with Mum," I said, looking around for something that might indicate this was only a dream and somehow send me back to the Fountain.

"Hermia, we're going to be late," my dad said in a strange sort of voice. I turned around, my eyebrows raised. His expression was slack, and he was staring as if through me instead of at me. I suddenly felt my own body start to relax. My wondering distracted me from whatever I had just been doing. _Hmm. What had I been doing…?_

"For the act right?" I guessed, my voice suddenly losing its urgency. A quiet, hollow roar began in the back of my mind, like wind through trees. I looked down. Three bright, orange juggling balls lay on the ground.

"Go ahead, dear," my dad said. Something had changed in him. His eyes were dark. "You love to juggle." I stared at him.

"Um…no," I said slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck beginning to prick in warning. "You know I have no talent with that sort of thing…Dad." His brows knitted together.

"No? Are you sure?" he asked, looking frustrated.

"Yes," I said.

"But your mother loves juggling," he mused.

"Dad, are you alright?" I ventured, taking a step toward him.

"Quiet!"

I jumped back. A woman's voice had come from my father's mouth. Not just any woman's voice, however; it sounded exactly like my mother's.

"Mum?" I said without thinking. My 'father' seemed to have caught the mistake and shot me a quick, overly-happy smile that was almost a grimace.

"Come now, Hermia," he insisted in his regular voice, opening the flap of the tent. "The audience wants you. Do you hear them?" Indeed I could; dull roars of applause and people chanting _Hermia, Hermia!_ reached my ears, making my breath catch in anticipation. The smile on his face relaxed. "Go ahead," he coaxed. I took an eager step towards the circus, forgetting everything but my excitement.

_Hermia, we'll nev—_

I turned to my dad. "What?" I asked.

—_Get there in time if you don't wake up!_

He stared at me in confusion. He hadn't spoken.

A foreign pressure came onto my arms, like ghost hands clutching them.

"Did you say—?" I started to ask.

_C'mon, Hermia, I'm not going to have anyone else to manage if you're gone, too. _

_Oh, wonderful incentive, Valentine. _

_You think of something then!_

_Here, try this…_

I clamped my hands over my ears to shut up these phantom hisses.

_Hermia! _the voice that sounded like my father urged, sounding panicked. _Wake up! _

Another weird lurch made me sprawl forward onto my stomach. The dull roar had grown louder, accompanied with the disembodied voices. My breath felt like it was being squeezed out of me.

Then, suddenly, everything stopped; except for the hollow roar. I opened my eyes timidly.

I was back in the Land of Shadows with Valentine and Laverna. Laverna was standing over me, hands over her ears. It took me a second to realize that it hadn't been _my_ hands over my ears in that dream; they were Valentine's. He was on his knees in front of me.

"Finally," he breathed (although I couldn't hear him well, I could make out the word), looking like he was about to keel over in exhaustion. "Get up. We need to get out of here now." The two of us stumbled onto our feet, Valentine's hands dislodging from my ears in the process. I replaced them with my own as we rushed out of the clearing as quickly as we could without running into the evil-looking Brambles.

After finding a safe distance between us and the Fountain, we stopped to catch our breath. Valentine was panting, hands on his knees. Even Laverna was shaking a bit from the ordeal.

"So, anyone…have a theory…of whose bloody stupid idea it was…to build a coma-inducing water fountain…in the middle of nowhere?" Valentine hissed between gulps of breath. I exhaled in a sort of hysterical chuckle.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

My lungs burned as if I had inhaled acid instead of oxygen, and looking out from these damn eyeholes had started giving me a bloody migraine.

"Care to explain what happened, Hermia?" Laverna asked, briskly tucking away loose strands of blond hair that had fallen free.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she replied, her eyes still closed as she forced herself into control once more. "But I did see my dad. I was at my family's circus. I think…I was in _his_ dream." Her eyes opened, glancing at me in a sort of wonder. "I had no idea what was going on, really. Everything kind of went in and out, but at some point we both figured out we were only dreaming. Then he started acting odd. He thought I loved juggling and was trying to convince me to go in the tent and perform, for some reason, when he obviously knew I'm a walker. I mean, he had said it when I first saw him. It was like he was someone else." She paused, thinking. "And then I was about to go into the tent, and I thought he said something to me, but I guess it was you. And then I found myself waking up when you stifled the Fountain's hum." Hermia, brows furrowed, stared at me for the second time, with those curious eyes of hers. She seemed to be trying to figure something out.

"What?" I asked sharply, a little annoyed at her scrutiny. Hermia hesitated.

"I know this will sound odd, but you look uncannily like my dad. You…sound exactly like him, too. Younger, yeah, but still…" She waited, as if uncertain of my reaction. I was silent for a good while.

"Really?" I answered, a hard edge coming unwontedly to my voice. "Are you wondering whether or not I am just a carbon copy of your father? Just a reproduction of someone _real_?"

"Valentine…" Hermia replied in a tired sort of tone, as if she expected this result. "That's not what I'm wondering. The truth is; you look like him for the most part. Save for the mask, of course." She motioned her hand toward my face. I opened my mouth to retort, but she cut me off. "However, I was just commenting on something that has been on my mind for a while now. You may look like him, but your whole personality is totally…_different_ from him. What I was really wondering is who came first, you or him. I mean, you know how the Queen of Shadows is the 'evil twin' of my mum. Well—" Her voice trailed off as she spread her hands in silent explanation of the obvious.

"You think I'm the evil twin of your father," I said shortly. Was it just me, or was she out to get me today? Or…had her dad said something about me that Hermia didn't want to tell me about?

"You have to admit, it's certainly possible," Laverna added, irritatingly amused.

"No, I mean, that's not what I'm trying to get across," Hermia protested. "I just thought it was just peculiar. A theory, you know. Yeah, you're not exactly the fatherly type—" Laverna snorted in mirth. "But that's not saying you're completely _evil_…"

"Okay, I get it," I said, feeling the frustration this girl had given me earlier resurface. "You think I'm a bad person. That's fine, I'll even agree with you…" I saw Laverna shake her head imploringly behind Hermia. I ignored her. "To each his own and all that; I don't give a flyin' fish what you think. But you hear this, missy: I may be a bad man, but I'm an important one. Don't you forget that." I crossed my arms, fuming as I picked up the pace.

Alright, so it was childish, but that had been the last straw. A man can only be pushed so far. Hell, a part of me was eager to be rid of her so I could finally have time to meself again.

I tried to push it away, but another part of me still felt hurt. That part of me wished desperately Hermia and I weren't on opposing sides, that she could see me in a little nicer light.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

So maybe I _have_ been ragging on Valentine a little too much today. He had a right to be angry at me. I wanted to say sorry, but I knew that he wouldn't take it. What else could I do?

Luckily, my legs were just as long as his, so I was able to keep up with him, keeping a few steps between us. It was as if there was a thick, uncomfortable void in the air around us. I longed to say something, anything, so I could finally get back on the right foot with him.

Then it came to me.

It didn't pain me so much as it had been more of a comfort, but I took off Valentine's robe and silently handed it back to him. He took it without hesitation, but his expression was shocked and full of confused wonder.

"I'm not cold anymore," I said, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. But a sort of gentle pleading found its way in my tone and—to my relief—Valentine seemed to relax as he put on the robe. His pace slowed and his painted, masked face seemed almost happy. He slightly turned his head toward me, and I swore I saw his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Took you long enough," he said in his normal, cocky tone. "I thought I would have to trade those life-saving situations you owed me for a new coat. Those things are bloody expensive, you know. Cost me near an arm and a leg to get it."

"How many years ago? Sixty?" I scoffed, though there was a grin on my face. "That thing's wretched. For such an important man you can't scrape up enough for a new robe?" He tilted his head to the side, bobbed down a bit and shrugged with his fingers spread in silent answer; the sort of quirky way Valentine expressed himself assured me that things had finally relaxed between us.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note:** Yeah, long chapter, sorry. In case you were wondering what the hell was going on in the whole "Lucid Dream" scene, here's the brief explanation that I can share. The other explanation will come later.

Lucid dreams are, by definition, dreams in which you are fully aware you are dreaming. I don't know how many of you have ever experienced this, but lucid dreaming is really cool, but very hard to maintain without waking up (the fading/flickering) or forgetting (hence Hermia and her father continually "forgetting" what reality was). I'm sorry if the scene was all over the place (come to think of it, so was this entire chapter XP ), I just wanted to get a few points across, as well as stimulate another argument between Hermia and Valentine so he can get his robe back. Heehee.

Also, quickly, what the "Lucid Fountain" does is make the dreams of the sleeping person so real and desirable, they replace it with true reality. I thought that'd be a nice touch to the Dark Lands. It's not necessarily evil, but it's certainly crossing some sort of line. Or, is it a blessing? Hmmmmmmm. Think on that, eh?


	11. Friends

**Author's Note:** I'm not even gonna say sorry. It's late and I know it. But it's a long chapter, and a damn good one at that. Just read and review, my pretties. JEW A FEW MORE CHAPTERS TO GO!

**Reviewers:**

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – Surrealism is something I love to do. Stream of consciousness is so fun to write!

Dylan – Haha. Finally got this fuckin' UP HERE. Thanks for supporting me either way. I love you, buddy.

HellionKyou – A HAM? Well hot dog! XD

Wolfinson – Glad you like it!

xXDarkLinkXx – Well, there we are. I got it up. Now it's YOUR TURN. XD

Iko.Willows – Thank you so much for reviewing! I tried hard to keep Hermia original. I've written too many Mary-Sues in the past. XP

_**Walking On Air**_

_Chapter 11_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I think we're about to hit the blank spots," Hermia said as she studied the map. She looked up. "Have either of you been through these parts before?"

"No, don't think so," I said. "At least, I don't remember it. The last time I went through the Land of Shadows, I wasn't exactly trying to enjoy the scenery." Hermia's lips pursed in thought as she surveyed the path directly ahead of us. I sighed in boredom.

Twisted, sharp somethings pushed their way out of the dry, cracked ground. Some were melded into crude, jagged angles, and others were sculpted into gently curved bubbles above the ground.

"Strange. I've never seen scrap yards like this," Hermia said, her head cocked slightly to the side as we approached.

Suddenly, my stomach rumbled a weak plea of hunger. It was then that I realized, with gross disbelief, that I hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon. My legs suddenly felt weak as the brute force of my hunger slammed into me. Something just short of a whine came from my mouth as I clutched my stomach.

"I suppose running from Shadows for the better part of the past two days puts food in the back of your mind," Hermia said dryly.

"No kidding!" I gasped, sitting heavily on a piece of scrap metal. Another sharp, burning pain seared through my empty stomach.

"I knew I should have packed some sandwiches or something," Laverna sighed. "We're never getting anywhere until we feed this lump."

"C'mon, Valentine," Hermia pleaded. "We need to keep moving. We're so close."

"Keep moving?" I said, incredulous. "I can barely move my little finger, let alone my feet!"

"You seem to be able to move your mouth well enough," Laverna muttered. I frowned in her direction.

"Alright, fine," Hermia said, setting the velvet bag she carried onto the ground. "I'm pretty drained myself. We'll need to eat something to get some sort of energy to rescue Mum. Since there are no markings in this area for restaurants or anything like that—"

"Who would think to build a restaurant _here_?" I grumbled.

"—we'll have to scavenge," she finished pointedly. "We can go back to the forest and look for fruit or roots or something. Just to curb the hunger, you know."

Laverna laughed sharply. "Are you joking? Can you imagine eating anything that grows in the Dark Lands? It'll probably either kill you, or worse. I'm sorry; starvation is a better option."

"I think I'd be willing to take that risk," I said, wincing as another pang of hunger cramped my stomach.

"There has to be another option," Hermia sighed exasperatedly, sitting down beside me on the scrap of metal.

"You could magic some biscuits up or something like that," I suggested.

"I'm about as hungry as you are. I don't have the energy for that right now," she said. "Other than that, there's no other way to get some sandwiches flying our way or anything."

No, probably not, I thought. That _would _be handy, though. Flying sandwiches. They would be a hell of a lot more useful than flying books or flying towers or useless things like that.

Wait.

That's it!

"What are you doing?" Laverna asked as I fumbled through the pockets of my coat. I pulled out my juggling balls, some coins, a tarnished key, a few bits of crumpled paper that flattened and fluttered away as soon as I threw them all to the side, and other odds and ends until—

"Yes!" I hissed as I extracted the old, plastic light-maker that I had gotten from Helena all those years ago. I clicked it on and off to make sure it still worked. It did. "Why didn't I think of this before?" I muttered.

"Why do you need a flashlight? Valentine, what—?" Hermia stood up as I got up from the metal stub and picked up the velvet bag.

"I need the Mirrormask for a second," I said, opening it.

"Why?" Laverna asked; her tone suspicious.

"I need to signal Tower," I explained shortly as I pulled the Mask out of the bag. "Her cupboards are always stocked with enough food to feed an army."

"And we couldn't use this information _before _to our benefit because…?"

"One; I didn't think of it 'til now. Two; we've…er…had another…row," I said loftily. "I haven't been in contact with her for a couple days."

"You fought with a tower?" Hermia asked, smirking. "About what?"

"That's none of your business," I grumbled before turning on the "flashlight" and directing the beam to be reflected off the Mirrormask. I tilted the beam back and forth, hoping Tower wasn't _too_ angry with me, or that she was too far off to see it.

"What if this…tower of yours ignores your signal?" Hermia asked with her eyebrow raised.

"She won't," I said, sounding more sure than I felt. "This has happened before. She always comes."

But as I scanned the skies, this statement became more and more worthless. The bulky green tower was nowhere in sight.

"Well, so much for that plan," Laverna sighed. "Put the Mirrormask back in the bag, Valentine."

_Damn it, Tower,_ I hissed silently. _I don't even remember _what _the bloody hell I did!_ I angrily clicked off the flashlight and roughly grabbed the velvet bag off of the ground.

"Wait…is that it?" Hermia said, pointing off into the skies. I jerked my head up, and was immediately gratified by the view of that gigantic, sickly-green tower zooming across the shadowed sky.

"I told you she'd come!" I said, my confidence instantly regaining itself. Hermia just stared at Tower as her hug chicken-leg extracted to absorb the shock of landing. Even as she did, the _thunk_ produced nearly knocked us off our feet.

I could tell she was pissed as hell.

"Tower! I'm so glad you could drop by," I said, putting on a cheerful smile as to appeal to her better nature as I approached her. "You see, we have a little problem, and we thought—"

"_I can't imagine what goes through your mind, Valentine, when you decide to act as if I wasn't ready to feed you to the Shadows myself. Did you really think that just because you are in some imminent danger or another I will forget your sins? I think not, young man!_"

"C'mon, Tower," I sighed in frustration. "Time is against us, lives are on the line and all that. Can you just open the door?"

"_If I don't, maybe _then_ you'll learn your lesson,_" she replied stubbornly.

"Tower, I'm starving! I don't even remember what I did, for the love of Mary!" I threw my hands in the air exasperatedly.

"_Oh, then I suppose I'll refresh your memory. You left the fridge door open. Again. In BOTH the sculleries._"

Ah. Well, that explained it.

"It was a slight slip of prudence, to be sure," I said hastily. "It won't happen again, I promise." She began to laugh harshly; something that sounded like a metal avalanche.

"_The promise of Valentine? That's rich. I know you too well, little Val, and that's allowed me to realize your word is, in most cases, meaningless._"

"If you haven't noticed, Tower, the world is at stake here," I said, drawing on my last bit of patience. "We _need_ to get through the Dark Lands, and you're the best choice."

"_Oh, I know. It's just satisfying to see, on those rare occasions, that you actually do care. Unfortunately, it's only when what you want is gone that you realize its importance. Oh, alright, come on in. Be glad you had ladies with you, or else I wouldn't even have considered landing._"

The door slid open and the three of us walked in.

"_Take off those shoes, for goodness sake,_" Tower ordered sharply._ "The floors are dirty enough as it is._" I shook my head.

"She's like my mother," I grumbled to Hermia as I kicked off my shoes and placed them by the door as it closed. Hermia smiled, but then we were both knocked off balance by Tower roughly jumping into the air. Hermia tripped backwards and I instinctively shot out a hand to grab her even as my own feet stumbled over themselves to regain footing. What resulted was a painful blow to the ribs as Hermia's elbow slammed into me when she staggered forward into my side and a few choice words—directed at Tower—that I could manage with the breath knocked out of me.

Tower only chuckled.

"She did that on purpose," I said sourly.

"Remind me never to get into disagreements with Towers," Hermia muttered with a wry grin as she patted me on the arm and stepped away to Laverna, who had shot me an accusing look as she got up off the floor; as if the jolting take-off was _my_ fault. Well, it _was_, but that wasn't the point. There were much more important matters to attend to.

"You two hungry? I'm sure we can find something you like in the kitchens," I said, leading the two of them down the wide entry hall to a great door that was only slightly peeling. I opened it with much grandeur (and a great deal of effort. Tower's intention, I suspected) and with the reward of Hermia's delighted expression.

So what if I let most of the rooms in Tower go neglected? The sculleries made up for it tenfold.

"Leave it to you, Valentine, to have a five-star kitchen," Hermia said, grinning as she opened a crystalline pantry and examining the colorfully stocked shelves.

"Make that two five-star kitchens," I gloated, chin held high as I zipped over and snatched a chocolate cake off the three-tiered pastry stand on the four-meter-long marble island. "The other one is beside my bedroom." With little ceremony, I took a large bite, almost moaning with relief as the light cream snaked its way across my palate.

"Where do you get all this food?" Hermia asked, opening the icebox on the other side of the room.

"No talking. Must eat," I muttered blankly, my stomach shutting off my brain as I finished off one whole tier by myself with ecstasy. I distantly heard Laverna comment about my weight.

Collapsing with satisfaction on a chair by the table, I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of being full for the first time in days.

Hermia took the seat beside me, a bag of crisps in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She quickly settled in opening the bag first, grabbing a handful of crisps and methodically eating two at a time.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"Since I was fifteen, actually," I replied. "I stumbled upon Tower not long after I left home."

"At fifteen?"

"Er…yeah," I said, my jaw tightening. Hermia seemed to catch the I didn't want to talk about it, so she quickly grinned and stood up.

"Since you're feeling a bit more active," she said, finishing off her drink. "Would you mind showing me around a bit?" Grinning, I jumped up from my chair, extending my hands graciously in a bow.

"Mr. Valentine, chauffer, escort, guide at your service," I said, my heart leaping back into its usual lightness as she shook her head, smiling in delight.

"Shall we then?" she said in low voice mirroring my polite manner, and extravagantly taking my hand lightly and curtsying, hand lifting her long flannel pants. Her eyes met mine and I could see a strange flash of something in them. My stomach lurched unexpectedly, but the moment passed as soon as she broke contact, eyes and hand.

"Are you feeling well, Valentine?" Laverna asked, her tone a little too sharp for the question.

"Yes, why?" I said, acting indifferent.

"Oh, nothing. For a moment it just seemed like all those _sweets_ were starting to come up on you," she said, smiling widely in warning. I pretended to ignore it.

"Let's start with the hall, shall we?" I said, leading them both out of the scullery.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I had to admit; Tower was much cleaner without me than with me. Needless to say, however, I would _never_ admit that to _Her._

For all Her rooms (124, including broom closets) I only really used my bedroom, the adjoining bathroom, and the sculleries. In fact, I hardly know the _location_ of half the other rooms; let alone what they were used for. Regardless, I was playing host. I could just make up such minor details as I went along.

"And this…erm…this is where I shine my shoes," I said, grandiosely gesturing into the next room.

"Then what is that?" Laverna said blankly, pointing to the opposite wall. A bookcase spanned the length and width of it, filled top to bottom with Kewpie dolls of all sizes and colors.

"Decoration, I said, my ears beginning to burn at the tips.

"Of course," she replied silkily. I cursed Tower for not warning me.

"You have a room solely for…shoe-shining. Impressive," Hermia said, lightly poking me and smiling. "Not so bad as if it were a…I dunno, a self-portrait room or something…_ARE YOU SERIOUS?_" Hermia burst out into hysterics as I gave up picking at a loose string on my robe in embarrassment. MY neck was on fire with shame at this point. Frowning deeply, I waited for Hermia's laughter to subside.

"Yeah, I'm just all giggles and biscuits aren't I?" I growled, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Oh, Val, learn to laugh at yourself," she said after managing to stifle her mirth. She shook my shoulder companionably. "You have a problem of taking yourself too damn seriously."

I harrumphed my reply, but my mood rose significantly as Hermia's hand, as it dropped back to her side, had slid gently down my arm to the elbow before breaking contact.

_Dammit,_ was all I could think as my breath and heart was held in suspension.

Hermia was turning me into something.

I'm not sure if I like it.

A small hand grabbed my other arm. The sharp points of the nails gave me a hint of who it was.

"Valentine, can I talk to you in the navigation room. We need to discuss our flight," Laverna said. Her amiable tone was iced by her taloned grip on my arm. I suppressed a wince.

"Erm, Hermia?" I called after her.

"Yeah?" she asked, hand on another door.

"Go on without us. We'll be in the control room, er, planning," I said, my voice remarkably cool despite Laverna's claws painfully digging into my skin. "Tower can give you the last of the tour."

_Better than you can at any rate,_ Tower chipped in smugly.

"Just stay clear of my room!" I ordered, instantly regretting it. She'll do it anyway just to spite me.

"Well, should I meet you two at supper, then?"

"Sounds perfect," Laverna said, smiling as she pulled me backwards to follow her. Hermia nodded and entered the door of the next room. Laverna's façade dropped like an orbiting giant. Thankfully, her hand did as well. I rubbed the stinging area and silently followed her sharp pace up the stairs, all the way to the top.

The control room was not at all impressive. It had a wheel, much like the helm of a ship (which was quite useless considering Tower maneuvers Herself), a bookshelf in a corner, and a wooden table and three chairs.

Laverna took a place standing behind the helm.

It was deadly silent for a good minute. She only gazed at me with her eerie black cat-eyes, her nails drumming the polished wood of the wheel. Suddenly she stopped, and began slinking toward me like a hungry lioness.

"Either you have become a master of deception, Valentine," Laverna said, her tone icy and clipped. "Or you have forgotten _what it is we are here to do_." She moved in, backing me against the wall on these last words.

"I _do_ know what it is," I said quickly. Too quickly, it seemed, for Laverna's taste. Her hand flew to my throat, her nails nicking the skin. She was certainly stronger than she looked. Laverna's sharp teeth were bared, and she seemed like she would very much like to tear my throat out that moment.

"Not good enough," she snapped. "Your heart is getting soft Valentine. I cannot risk my task by putting up with your frivolous little heartaches."

"What are you talking about? I'm totally focused. I'm completely dedicated. I am not—" Laverna cut off my protests with a harsh bark of a laugh.

"What? Not infatuated?" Distracted?" she said, removing her hand and taking a step back. She tilted her head to the side.

"Enamored?"

There was a short silence.

"Ridiculous," was all I said.

"Oh, don't go into this," she said in exasperation. "I'm not going to waste time counseling you on _how_ you've gotten a thing for her. What I'm going to tell you is that it is_ never going to happen._"

"I…I don't have a _thing _for Hermia!" I stuttered. "I'm doing as you said. I'm gaining her trust!" Laverna laughed again.

"I don't know who you're trying to fool, Val, but there are too many signs. The way you _look_ at her when she even _touches_ you is proof enough. It's sickening." The mirth vanished from her face, replaced by a grim seriousness.

"You've betrayed her already, Valentine. I assumed that would be enough to deter this…_affection._" Sighing, she reached into her back pocket. "But I suppose this is what I get for assuming I could trust_ you._"

The last thing I remembered was Laverna throwing a cloud of dust in my face, and the sickly sweet scent of cotton candy tickling my nose.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

_Ah, yes. And this is Valentine's room,_ Tower said as I placed my hand on the door handle of the next room.

"Oh. Er…well, he didn't want me in there," I protested weakly, curiosity hammering through my veins.

_Only because it's a bloody mess, most likely, _Tower said darkly. _Other than that, there isn't much for him to hide._

"Well, in that case…" I opened the door eagerly, but not before guiltily glancing down the hallways to make sure he wasn't going to come strolling down and catch me.

In a way, it was very much how I would expect Valentine's room to look like. Obviously neglected; books, clothes, shoes, and discarded food packaging were strewn all over the floor. A small room, it reminded me of my friend's dorm back home. The walls were industrial grey and his furnishings a dull wrought-iron. The few oddities were a scattering of juggling rings, balls, and batons on his disheveled bed, and what looked like a picture taped to the dirty window.

"I walked over to the window. A purpling sky, stuck between sunset and sunrise touched the warped, blurred landscape flashed by far below Tower. The picture was facing outside, so I was unable to see it. One phrase was written on the back; "At the circus". I carefully lifted the tape, trying not to tear the picture itself. Turning it over, I studied the odd, misplaced photograph.

It was a picture of two people, taken as if one was taking the snapshot of a dream, sepia-colored and sketchy. One of the people was a masked woman, her mouth pursed tightly, and her demeanor reminded me of my grammar teacher in grade school; icy and practical. The woman had a bony hand on the shoulder of a young man. Her fingers, long and spindly, like a spider's legs, seemed to detest the touch of him, wishing to pull away. The boy's face was blurred, as if he had moved while taking one of those old, long-exposure photographs. She could make out is hand holding a mask in front of his face. The corner of a real eye could be seen. The photo must have been taken before Valentine could put on his mask completely.

I carefully taped the picture back in silence, feeling as if I had intruded on something highly personal. I probably had.

I remembered what Valentine had said about being bought from a man who was possibly his father. The bitter cynicism connected to that was obvious. Valentine was a complicated man, to say the least.

I moved away from the window and picked up a baton from his bed. There was a snake engraved into it, mouth open and fangs bared. Under it was some scorch marks. Mum had fire-batons like these, but she always kept them well protected from being scathed. It was dangerous to have fire-batons that could lead the fire to your hands.

A movement between the sheets caught my eye. A piece of paper fluttered feebly as if caught by a breeze. Curious, I picked it up. It was slightly singed. I read the sharp, slashed writing on it.

_Blackbug Circle. 12 midnight. Don't be nervous. No one's played with fire before._

Underneath that was another script. It was different; crooked and cramped. A strange pain prickled my palms.

_blackbug circle—dead crowd_

_bad show_

_never again_

The paper fluttered violently, wrenching itself from my fingers and flying under the bed. I sighed. A pit in my stomach I didn't know was there grew heavier, and I wasn't sure why it was there or why it hurt so much.

I gently placed the baton back on Valentine's bed and headed out the door.

"Tower?" I said.

_He didn't leave his trash strewn all over the place, did he?_ _He always insisted I not be able to look into his room, and I obliged, but I'm _positive_ he leaves it a bloody _wreck.

"No, it's fine." I hesitated.

_Then what is it?_ My eyes flickered down the hall.

"Who…what…who is Valentine?"

A sigh came from the walls.

_A coyote. Too mangy for his own good. A mongrel. A fool. The world seems to be out to get him, but he pretends to bite back while__, really, his tail's between his legs. He's a—_ Tower paused, hesitating to say it.

"A coward," I finished. "Yeah. I guessed as much." Pause. "Where's the navigation room?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Hey Val." He was alone, standing at the helm, looking out the huge window. Laverna was probably off exploring by herself. "Any updates? How are we going to storm the castle?" I said, taking a seat by the table.

"We're going to land a couple miles from Dark Palace. Tower's too conspicuous. We'll wait out and walk at morning. Night is too strong for them here."

I blinked. Something in his voice had changed. It was too…hard?

"Er…okay," I said. "How are we actually going to get in?"

"We'll figure that out later, when we can actually survey the area. We're close to an abandoned cabin we can stay at."

"Ah," I said, nodding. An uncomfortable silence fell. As much as I wanted to ignore it, something was wrong. I stood up and went over to the bookshelf, fingers running across the titles. Out of the corner of my eye, I looked at Valentine. He wasn't looking at me. It was like his entire face had become a mask. Blank. Is frightened me a little.

"We're landing in a minute. Go to the front door. Don't forget the Mask," Valentine said suddenly, emotionlessly, still not looking at me. I didn't move, just stared at him.

"Are you alright?" I finally asked. He turned toward me. A detached smile touched his lips.

"I'll be fine once this is all over and done with, and I can finally be left alone." His tone was icy, and I thought I heard anger in it. My brows furrowed.

"I didn't know you still felt that way," I said coldly before I headed out the door. I thought I heard an irritated sigh come from him before I closed the door.

The three of us said goodbye to Tower as we stepped outside once again into the dark, twisted forest. In front of us was a broken down, overgrown, dilapidated shack that looked like it had been abandoned for decades. Nevertheless, as darkness crept over the sky, it was the only shelter for us now until morning. I went into it first. There was only one big room with a crumbling fireplace. I gathered my strength and sent three sleeping bags into existence.

"I'll keep first watch," Laverna said calmly. "The Shadows probably suspect by now that we're close." Valentine and I slid into our respective bags, and lay down. The lack of conversation was eerie.

I had to admit, sleep was welcome, but something foreboding troubled my mind. I dreamt of snakes sliding down the walls of the shack, their mouths open wide and red eyes flashing. White noise muffled their hissing. Or maybe it was their hissing.

And then it changed, like a stone dropped into a pond. My mother was there, in a corner of a white room, head in her hands.

_Hermia._

_Keep your enemies close._

_And your friends closer._

"_Hermia, it's coming."_

"_Hermia, run."_

Screaming.

"_HERMIA, RUN!"_

My heart was stuck in my throat. The white noise in my head grew to a deafening roar. I jerked awake, frozen in my sweat-drenched sleeping bag. Forcing myself to sit up, I looked wildly around me.

Laverna and Valentine were gone, as was the velvet bag with the MirrorMask.

And the Shadows roared outside the window. I swore, fear shaking the shock off me. I scrambled to my feet and tried to open the door. It was locked. Panicking, I raced to the window, survival instincts and blind fear my only drive. I saw the black fly toward the opposite window. I shrieked, and threw my weight out, and crashed through the glass, hands covering my head. I tumbled to the ground and pushed myself up, ignoring the shards of glass and wooden splinters slicing my skin.

There they were. Laverna and Valentine. They were making a mad dash through the trees onto the trail. I yelled for them, running after them. The roar of the Shadows grew louder, chasing us.

_Why did they leave me?!_ my desperate mind screamed in dire fright as I crashed through the underbrush to get to them. I was so close to them now. They wouldn't stop. They didn't look behind them.

Not even Valentine.

Suddenly an excruciating pain clawed up my leg, causing me to stumble and skid forward hard into the trail. I cried out, looking down at my left leg. It was covered in blood, and my calf was sliced deeply. I had run into a Cutlass Bramble. Stars flashed across my sight Looking behind me, I saw the Shadows; a great wall of black and death.

"_VAL!"_ I screamed, panic rushing adrenaline into my veins and allowing me to stand despite the pain. I staggered forward, my hands pushing myself from the ground like an Olympic sprinter. Valentine, only a few meters away, skidded to a stop and whipped around, spotting me. His face was blank, but his body language was strange. He took a step forward and a step back. Like he was unsure.

"Val, let's _go_," I heard Laverna say as I tried to reach him. "The Shadows are for _her_, not us. We need to get to the Palace _now._" He backed away from me a few steps more, pulling farther from me.

And then I understood.

"But…but you said she'll be fine." His voice was soft, confused. I heard a small part of the real Valentine come through.

"Jewels are waiting, Val. And hats. You want hats," Laverna snapped, patience giving way. "They're coming. Hurry!"

I looked behind me, and the Shadows were there. A whip of black mass snaked forward and grabbed me by the leg. Knives of pain shot up my spine as I crashed to the ground, yelping, panting as I scrambled out of its grasp. I shot off again, only to slip on my own blood.

"_VALENTINE!" _ I shrieked once again, tears mixing with the dirt and blood on my face. "_HELP!" _

Suddenly a violent tremor went through the robed, masked man. He was looking straight at me as he fell to his knees. I could not hear him over the Shadows triumphant bellows, but his mouth formed, "_Hermia",_ before he launched to his feet and raced toward me.

Before the cold, the black, engulfed us, I felt Valentine's arms around me, using his body to shield mine from the Shadows.

His breath on my cheek was the last thing I felt before everything was lost.

"It's over…" I whispered as I slipped away.

_It's over._

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	12. Of Lies and Cowards

**Reviewers:**

Dylan – As always, you have kept me SANE through getting to this. Thank you for reading this shit. XD And that last one goes for everyone, by the way.

xXDarkLinkXx – Heart-pounding. Hmm. I like that kind of effect. 

PJW – I use initials because I'm too lazy. XD Sappiness is my middle name. That's why I write. 

Wolfinson – UPDATING.

MysticStoryteller – Yay! A new reviewer! Wow. You replied to all of them so far. Congrats! (gives cookie) Well, I'm glad you like them. Keep reviewing!

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Twelve_

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_Was this death?_

I felt I was dreaming underwater. Well, I could breathe, but it was a muffled breathing, a breathing that was a balance beam between life and death, a breathing that only _just _skirted the possibility of panic. The panic that instigates the fear that you are not dreaming and you're actually underwater and you can't actually breathe and you're drowning and no one is there to save you and it's black and frightening and it's dark and the black is closing in around you—

_Hermia, something is wrong. What went wrong?_

It sounded like my voice. It sounded very much like my voice, but it wasn't. It was much older and wiser and…

_Mom?_

_Yes, love, it's me. What happened? I can't see you anymore; it's only black, like—_

_Shadows…_ The thought seemed to come from the depths of a very murky pool. My mind felt foggy, and it was still black and dim and damp, like I was wrapped in a big, black, wet blanket. 

_Shadows? _Mum's voice grew taut, the panic that I couldn't avoid tainting her tone. _Oh god, Hermia, they took you. Hermia, love, I know it's hard, but try to remember. Remember what happened._

Remember? Oh, but I felt so tired. Too tired to remember anything. I was running for a long time. And my leg hurts something dreadful.

Then something clicked.

_We were running. I hurt myself, cut my leg. I couldn't keep up. And then cold wind on my cheek, and butterscotch, and then black. _

I shivered. The black was still there, over my body. 

_We? What do you mean "we"? Who else was with you?_

_Laverna…and…oh, goodness who else…and Valentine. _

There was another long silence. I was afraid our communication was cut. 

_Hermia, we'll talk more when you arrive. I'm sorry you were caught up in all this mess, dear. I'm so sorry._

Mum's tone had turned sharp, and I didn't know why. I sighed mentally and allowed myself to slip back into my deep, seemingly endless sleep. A long, long time later, I heard something ringing in my ears. A low, vibrating buzz, like the kind you get deep in your ears when someone is talking to you behind your back. And there was pain, too. A sharp, insistent, cruel pain that relentlessly impaled you until you moaned or passed out or died. 

My eyes flew open, a gasp escaping my throat. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the dim light cast by what I saw to be a naked yellow bulb high above my head and a window somewhere on the opposite wall. I was in what could only be called what it was; a dungeon cell. I was chained to a cold, stone wall; cuffs positioned with my arms parallel to my body, and my feet locked tightly in such a way that I was standing, feet flat on the ground, but if I sagged, my knees could not bend much. My arms throbbed and my shoulders felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets, but nothing compared to the pain ruthlessly stabbing my calf. 

_Fucking_ _Brambles_, I screamed silently. I stifled a dry sob while consciousness brought on the bane of feeling back into my mind. 

"Hermia? Are you awake?" someone whispered from the corner on the left of me. I jerked, making the links in my chains clang softly. 

"Mum?" I rasped. I licked my lips nervously, tasting my blood on a scrape in the corner.

"Oh, love, I'm so sorry!" My mother came into the stronger light. She looked skeletal, nothing like she did in my dreams. She was wearing her old Japanese-blossom robe, now in tatters. Her wispy, short hair was matted and dull, and there was a dark, haunted shadow deepening the lines on her face. A lock was around her ankles, a chain attached, just long enough to reach to me. Her hands were chained as well, but they were also enclosed in what looked like a black case. I almost felt embarrassed to look at her, like I shouldn't see my mother like this.

"Mum, it's okay. Please, don't get emotional; it's not going to help. Just, do your magic or something and get us out of here," I said, my voice coming out slurred, as if I was still half-asleep. 

"Oh, she wouldn' do tha', girl," another voice chimed in, gruff and sinister. I could make out a tall figure by the cell door. "Unless she don' wan' no daughter no more." The figure laughed. Mum winced.

"It's true. My powers are dampened by this," she whispered, raising her arms slightly, indicating the black case. "But not too dampened that I couldn't unlock your shackles and the door. But…I've been told if I did try anything of the like, you'll be killed instantly."

"Tha's right," the guard said proudly. "Got them sensors installed only two days ago; short notice and everyfin'. You'll be skew'r'd like a pig. No offence, personally, miss." 

"None taken, of course," I muttered past teeth clenched both in dull pain and only slighter annoyance. 

"What happened to your leg, Hermia?" Mum asked, kneeling beside me. "Someone bandaged it before they brought you in here, but it's not done properly."

"I stumbled onto a Cutlass Bramble while I was running from the Shadows," I said, my tongue gaining more fluency. Mum pursed her lips, standing. I never realized how petite she was. I was a good six inches taller than her. I felt a rush of warmth down my body, and the worse bite of the pain left me. I breathed out a relieved sigh. "Thanks, Mum." 

"I only wish I could do more," she said softly. "I've put you in so much danger, Hermia. You've been so brave, going into this…this _insane_ world I've created," she said, laughing dryly. 

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" I blurted out, embarrassed at the slight whine in my voice. Mum looked at me with a slightly dazed look.

"Because, for the longest time, I thought it had been all a dream," she said softly. "I had suspicions; catching sketches and shadows and figures moving out of the corner of my eye. But I grew up, and the dreams faded. I had other dreams coming true. Your father, the circus…you." She smiled wistfully; a gesture that smoothed some of the lines on her tired face.

"But you still drew them."

"Out of habit, I thought at first. But even then, I was still a Creator at heart." Mum sighed. "Unfortunately, as with all creations, it had a will of its own."

"Mum, what is the Queen going to do with us? Just keep us here?" I asked, trying to ignore the persistent hurt in my leg. 

"_Queen_. The woman on the throne in this palace is not the Queen," she said, her voice cold. "I have not ordained it. I was going to create the new queens, ones that would keep the balance of this world."

"Mum, the Shadows destroyed the White City. Laverna, Valentine, and I saw it," I said. "It seems the balance was already tipped." 

"Oh yes, that's right. Valentine was with you," she said softly. I couldn't read her tone. "Did he actually gather the courage to capture and drag you down here himself instead of leading you into the Shadows' jaws?"

"Capture me? No, he helped me find you." There was another silence. I saw my mother's face grow ugly with an unchecked anger. 

"I don't believe it. He's _dead_. I'd kill him if I could reach him," she snarled, a fury in her eyes that was strange and frightening to me. 

"Valentine? What did he do?" I asked, the old pit in my stomach starting to grow once more. 

"He's the reason I was trapped here in the first place! He turned me over to the Shadows, probably as soon as he knew how much she was going to pay for me. And now you as well. I don't believe it." A harsh bark of laughter came from her mouth.

"He did that?" I whispered, disbelieving. "No, it couldn't've been. Val is trustworthy, Mum. He helped me from the Shadows, he helped me get here in one piece, he…" 

Then something else came back to my memory. It tasted like bile. 

"Hermia, if it wasn't for Valentine, Anti-Helena would be only a princess with a hot temper and we wouldn't be in this mess," Mum snapped. Her anger, though not directed at me, made my blood freeze. "His agenda was only to make a profit by keeping me from making a new Queen of Shadows. Valentine was, and is a villain, Hermia. I'm so sorry he made you fall for his…_charm_." 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Laverna drugged me. That had to be it.

My eyelids felt like boulders, and I was never really all that strong. It was worse than all those mornings after my pity-parties. Put together.

_Christ, what happened last night?_ I thought groggily. At first all I could recall was the picture of Laverna throwing a bunch of sweet-smelling dust in my face. And then fuzzy dreams. And screaming. Screaming that stopped my heart and stopped me in my tracks as I was running from the Shadows_. The Shadows? When were we running from the Shadows? We were safe in Tower until…_

Then the weight of guilt and fear knocked a sobering blow to my senses.

I remembered the annoyance of her expecting I would stick with her. The satisfying jolt as I locked the cabin door. That eagerness for the newfound freedom I was anticipating once we got rid of Hermia.

I left her to the Shadows instead. I had ignored her shrieks, the blood on the ground, her frightened eyes. A harsh feeling lodged into my stomach; one I've felt this strongly only once before. That damned _guilt._

"_VALENTINE! HELP!"_

But then, everything cleared. Something happened between that and darkness. I remembered Laverna pleading to me.

She said something about hats. 

My eyes cracked open, and out of the small eyeholes of my mask I could see I was lying on the ground of a dank, dark prison cell. One would even call it a dungeon; which it probably was.

Fear, bitter and familiar, rose up in my throat. I wasn't dead, but it was still a feasible option in my immediate future. 

"…Valentine was, and is a villain, Hermia. I'm so sorry he made you fall for his…_charm_."

_That voice._ The hairs pricked on the back of my neck. _I know that voice._

I was lying in a crumpled, cramped position; as if someone had thrown me in here like a dirty rag doll. My arm, pinned underneath me, was stinging in protest. Wincing, I untangled myself into a more natural position. I lifted my head, my arms moving to lift my body up into a low kneeling position. Blood throbbed hard in my temples.A soft, guttural moan lodged itself in my throat, and I lifted a hand instinctively to hold my aching head.

"Val? Mum, is that Valentine?"

"Yeah, it's me," I muttered, my mind groggy as I sat back heavily against the wall. A sharp pain went through my back as I straightened. I couldn't tell if it was injured when Hermia and I were taken by the Shadows, or if it was just sore from lying in one bloody position for god knows how long. Breathing out through gritted teeth, I looked up toward Hermia's voice. A shock wave staggered through my chest as I saw her—bloody, bruised, and slumped—chained against the wall. 

"Bloody Mary," I felt my lips mouth as I automatically scrambled to my feet, walking over to her. "Hermia, what the hell—"

I nearly ran into Helena, who shot in front of me and grabbed my arm. I cringed away instinctively when I saw the violent glare in her eyes.

"Hello Valentine," she said coolly. My skin pricked with a strange, frightening power, like tiny cruel insects walking their sharp little needle-legs up and down my body. It wasn't pleasant. 

"Helena," I said. 

"Well," she said, like that one word could describe all the hurt and anger in her eyes. The magnitude of anger. Especially the anger. 

"Well," I mimicked before I could catch my mistake. Helena narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't expect you to be down here with us," she said. 

"Ah. Well…where did you expect me to be?" 

"I would have guessed you would be out in town…buying another _lovely_ hat," she said, her dark gaze turning the invisible insects all into scorpions, their tails curled. "Got a little too greedy, your Queen thought? Did she get a little annoyed at your money-mongering?" 

My jaw tightened. So it was like that, was it?

"As a matter of fact, I'm here for the same reason Hermia is, trying to break _you_ out," I snapped. Helena laughed dryly. 

"Still playing the same game, Valentine. Well, you never did accept change quite easily."

"I am dead serious," I said, surprising myself at the hardness in my voice. Her sardonic leer disappeared in a scowl.

"I know you too well, Valentine," she said. "Seriousness is not one of your better virtues."

"Not well enough to predict this, eh?" I replied, motioning to her caged hands. 

"Not well enough that I certainly overestimated you," she agreed. 

"So it _was_ you who turned her in?" Hermia suddenly interrupted. I looked to her in surprise, which quickly turned into an inexplicable shame that heated my face under my mask. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish under water, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly as I tried to find my words.

"Yes, it was me," I said. Then I hastily added, "But if you knew the reason why—"

"Stop it, Valentine. Just stop it!" Helena interrupted fiercely. "I will not stand for you to feed my daughter lies like you did me, to try to fight for trust that you do not deserve. You were the one who bloody well put me in here…and now my _daughter_. I _might_ have forgiven you for stabbing me in the back twice. But you crossed the line with me, Val. I could never have imagined you would sink this low."

"I have not sunk _anywhere_! It wasn't my fault! Laverna—"

"Don't even try to lay the blame somewhere else, Valentine! Stand up to your mistakes," Helena said, close to yelling. She seemed to grow in stature, the force of her words towering over me. "Accept some goddamned responsibility and for _once_, Val, _for once_ can you keep from sliding back into…into _cowardice?_"

_Coward. _That word echoed through the stone walls in the silence, like the Tree of Whispers had unleashed it onto the ears of all. I could feel the heaviness bearing down on me, another bag of sand on my shoulders.

"Uncalled for, Helena," I said hoarsely. 

"Is it really?" she said, sitting down at the feet of her daughter.

My hands were shaking with suppressed fury and guilt. I hid them in my sleeves. 

"Valentine," Helena said slowly, uncertain. "How did you betray her…twice?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. Bullocks. That was a loaded question.

"Of course," Helena said under her breath. "Of course you wouldn't care to tell her. Well, I suppose that was an easy detail to overlook." She closed her eyes, sighing. It was then that I realized just how many years had past in her world. She looked so very much older. Old and very tired. "How much did he tell you, then?"

"Er, all of it, or so I thought." The last few words I couldn't discern the meaning behind. "But from when he met you to when her brought the princess back to the Palace."

"And gathered quite the reward, I suspect. The real princess was probably worth more than a copy of her, eh?" 

"No." I looked at Hermia in surprise at her defensive tone. "He had to run for his life because of his betrayal to the Queen." But then she looked at me, and my stomach churned as I saw the uncertainty in her eyes that was not reflected in her words. She didn't know if she could believe even that. 

"Huh," Helena said in a noncommittal sort of way. "Regardless, I'll start from when we got to the dome. Up til then Valentine and I only knew that the key I possessed was the next step to finding the Mirrormask. I t was when we finally found the dome with the tower of keyholes in it that we found where the key might belong—" 

"No," I interrupted, my heart pounding frantically. 

"No?" Helena said bluntly. "What is it?" 

"I should…I want…I'm going to tell it," I stuttered, my hands in tight fists in my sleeves. Helena just stared at me, her eyes scrutinizing. 

"You've told enough tales, it seems, Valentine," she said, her taunting tone done, even her anger ebbing away. Only weariness and what sounded like disappointment was left.

"How can I lie when you're here to tell the truth?" I said. "I can bloody well tell the truth then save my breath and sinking back into silent…c—" I couldn't get my tongue around it. The back of my neck grew hot again. I ran my tongue over my lips nervously. "Cowardice."

Helena watched me for a moment. I shifted under her gaze. _For chrissake, when did she become the Creator? What happened to that awkward teenager in those rumpled pajamas and that defiant face? _

Then my eyes went back to Hermia, hanging near like a corpse on the wall. Her wrists were an angry red and the hastily-wrapped bandages on her leg did little to keep a slash of blood seeping out from the side of her calf. Her breathing seemed labored and her whole body was limp with exhaustion. But in her face, scratched and tired, was still that energy, that independence and defiance, albeit with ripped pajamas. 

Oh. That's where it went.

"Very well, Valentine," Helena said, cutting off my thoughts. "Tell how it happened. _Exactly_ how it happened." I took my hand out of my sleeves, pushing them back up my arms.

"Well," my voice cracked. I cleared it. "We were about to check the keyholes and then you erm…went to the window and said something about the Not-You destroying your drawings. Then the dome surged up like some giant had picked it up and was juggling it. When it stopped, Helena was hurt, and I, uh…I said I'd get help."

"But he didn't," Helena said softly. 

"I'm telling the story, aren't I?" Helena inclined her head obligingly. "Well, erm…I had seen the wanted posters for her and…I didn't know her all that well, and I was short on income. As many jewels as you could carry? You can't blame me for being tempted."

"I beg to differ," Helena said blankly. I shrugged in acknowledgement, and continued.

"Went to the Palace and asked for an audience with the Queen, saying that I knew where Helena was. She allowed me to speak, and then sent her servants to take me to the scullery and to make whatever I wanted. Just as I left, she sent her guards to gather Helena. The Queen brought me back into the throne room not long after and Helena was there." I had to keep my eyes trained on Hermia, because she was the one I was telling this to. "I…I told her it was nothing personal. I did!" I protested as Helena snorted derisively. "I took the jewels owed to me and left." 

"While I was to be subject of the dark magic of the Queen to turn me halfway into her Princess," Helena said. 

"Yes, well, we'll get to that in a minute," I said hastily. "Anyway, I began making my way out of the Shadow Lands. I was kind of just wandering more or less. To tell the truth..." I cleared my throat, feeling sheepish. "I sort of missed Helena's company. Well then I realized I still had the key to the key tower thing. I was curious, so I decided to go back and try it out. I found the white dome and began to try out each of the locks. Eventually, one fit, but when I opened it, there was only a note from the Dark Princess explaining how she took the Mask, and it was then that I realized that Helena was right about her seeing the Princess through windows and such. Well, I knew that Helena was the only one who could find the Mirrormask now, so I went back to the Palace—" 

"Wait a second, Valentine," Helena interrupted. "I never…I never was able to ask you. Why did you come back to find the Mirrormask in the dome?"

"Well, to give it back to you, of course," I heard myself lie before I could stop myself. Helena's face changed.

"You wanted it. You thought you could use it to make all your dreams come true," she said, the truth dawning on her. I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Okay, yeah. I did. I wanted out of this place," I said. Suddenly I felt angry, and I wanted to tell her, now of all times. "I still want out of this place! I don't fit here, Helena, I never did. All that I wanted for meself was always out of reach, and all that I've done was to get away, to…to…_do_ something." 

"Valentine." Helena looked at me intently, a strange sort of patience behind her eyes. "Finish the story." I opened my mouth to argue. I wanted this done now. She needed to know what she has done to me…

And then I see Hermia. _She_ knows. I told her. But she needed to know the whole story. That's the only way the both of them could understand. I took a deep breath.

"I wanted to do what the Princess did. I wanted to be free from this world. I imagined a world without…without masks," I said. "Or maybe I just wanted something different than the total black and white of this world. Even the fishes were starting to irritate me." I paused. "Well, I went back to the Palace, not just because I wanted the Mirrormask, but also because I did feel g—" I choked on the word. "Guilt. For turning her in. So I snuck onto the Palace grounds and found her. She was…different. Her eyes were black and her face was like a…a mask. I'd heard of the Queen brainwashing people before, but I had to try to snap her out of it. And, well, you know what happened afterward."

"Yes," Hermia said, her own face still, unreadable. A strange thought came to me then. I could never really read her face. It was so much like a mask; the emotions usually hidden deep under her skin. So unlike Helena. 

"Yes," Helena echoed. "And I hadn't seen you since. Not for nearly thirty years in my time."

"You forgot about me," I said, accusingly. "You forgot about nearly all of us. Things came to a halt; it was like the end of the world, but life kept going. It has been bloody hell for me since you left. I could barely juggle to buy a meal and enough alcohol to drown away the complete stagnancy my life had transformed into."

"So all of it was my fault, eh?" Helena said, her voice dangerously still. "And it was bad enough for you decide it was righteous for you to tip the balance by handing me over to the Shadows?"

"I had had enough of you pulling my strings! I wasn't a person anymore!" I snapped, my voice growing louder. "I wasn't meself anymore, just a…a _copy _of someone else you cared for more—"

"I thought you were all nothing more than a dream, I had no control over that," she said. "Nevertheless, I am the Creator, Valentine. Did you even consider the consequences of taking me out of the mix?"

"I…I knew, but I also knew that if you had come back here, and you started exerting your control over all of us again, I knew I would have gone…_mad._"

"And without me you were going mad as well. You're contradicting yourself, Valentine. What the hell is it that you want?"

"I want _out_ of this bloody place! I hate not being able to be me!" 

Helena laughed scornfully. "You are selfish. You always have been. You look only out for yourself; you've never, in your entire existence, given something freely. You're scared of your own shadow—"

"—And you are selfish yourself. Why do you think you need to control us? Why won't you just leave us alone?"

"Because I am the Creator. Because without me, as both of you have witnessed, things will fall into Shadows—"

"You are so…black and white, Helena! You barely know the reality of what you have created! The City of Shadows is not all sinister, and the City of Light never was all that happy and secure. You talk of balance, Helena, but—"

"Have you opened your eyes, Valentine? Do you not see how things were once the Queens died? I could have prevented the fall of the White City, and the Princess wouldn't have—"

"I don't blame her a bit for taking power."

"Oh. And why is that?"

"Because she was as sick of being controlled by others, of being a _copy_ as I was."

There was a small silence. I was breathing heavily, feeling on the edge of hysteria. 

"So you think you have no control, Val?" Helena said. "You think that all your mistakes, all your sins, all your betrayals were not your fault?"

"I had no other choice for meself—"

"You always had a choice, Valentine!" she shouted at me. "I had hoped you would finally understand at some point, but you never changed."

"Because you never allowed me to!" 

"I am your _Creator_, Valentine," she said clearly. "Not…your keeper." 

I opened my mouth to argue, but my mind had been swept blank. I closed my mouth, my heart sinking to my stomach. A little voice in my head hissed, _She's right._

"You can't change yourself, Valentine, but that is not my error," Helena stated. "You just can't do that yourself."

"I am not…" I faltered. 

"Valentine, you really wanted my Mum locked in here?" Hermia finally spoke. The distrust and the hurt in her voice cut me to the quick. Shame twisted in my heart like a Bramble. I looked at her, exasperated. 

"Hermia, I don't want to be a bad person," I pleaded. "I really, really don't. You know I bloody well couldn't do this to you—" 

"But you did. You locked the cabin door and left me for the Shadows," she said. To my horror, tears began to tighten her throat and form in her eyes. Anger and disbelief rimmed her voice. "Why, Valentine? I thought I could trust…" 

"Hermia, it wasn't me, I never—"

"Don't you dare lie to her, Valentine!" Helena growled. 

"No!" I shouted in frustration, rounding on her. "I'm _not_ going to be kept silent by you. I know what happened, and just because you don't believe me it doesn't mean it's not true, and it doesn't mean…it doesn't mean Hermia won't believe me." I turned to Hermia, my whole body shaking. "I swear on my life, Hermia, I didn't want to turn you in. Yeah, it's true that Laverna and I had an agreement in the beginning, but that's when I barely knew you. I was afraid, Hermia. I was afraid of your mother, of Laverna, of the Queen, of being in the middle of this whole battle. But then you knew me better, and I didn't know what I was doing. Laverna kept talking things to me, but I still didn't know. She told me to act like I did, but I wasn't putting on an act, I wasn't thinking about it, and…" I caught my breath, and Hermia's intent hazel eyes still showed no change. I rubbed the top of my arm. 

"The point is, Hermia, I had no intention whatsoever of turning you in once we reached Tower. But…something happened when Laverna talked to me. She…she knew I wouldn't have the…the courage to leave you. To the Shadows," I added hastily. "Laverna threw something in my face, and everything went all dull from there. I had no control over anything I was doing. It was just Laverna's voice in my head, telling me what to say and what to think and how to act. You have to believe me. I wasn't meself. Hermia, it wasn't me who locked the door…but it _was_ me who ran back." I reached out to touch her, but something like an electric shock radiated throughout my arm. I snatched my hand back in pain and surprise.

"Do not touch my daughter," Helena said flatly. I looked at her, then at Hermia. She was looking at me with a strange emotion hiding underneath her eyes. But it wasn't forgiveness.

"Hell," I breathed out, closing my eyes and turning away from the both of them. Sadness, heavy and choking, wrapped about me like an extra robe as I sat down in the opposite corner, head in my hands. 

_She doesn't trust me anymore. It's my fault. _

Can't I ever do the right thing?

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I was sitting on my throne with my hand mirror, inspecting my new mask taken from the ruins of the City of Light when Laverna waltzed in. I almost felt the need to remind her of her place, but I had not the energy for it. It would be like smashing a mosquito while it just buzzed around you. Annoying, but it just needed to know that you could easily kill it if it breached your limits.

"Your Majesty," she said, curtsying slightly. 

"Do you have the Mask?" I asked her, looking away from the mirror. She extended her arm, holding the velvet bag in her hand. "Good." I nodded to one of the guards at my side. He took the bag and handed it to me. A smile, something my face hadn't formed since the death of my mother, crept across my lips as I pulled the Mirrormask from its confines. 

Finally. 

"Now that you have the Mask, my Queen, shall we dispose of the Creator?" the guard asked me, interrupting my reunion with the Charm of Power. 

"Of course not," I said, placing the Mask on my lap, trailing a lazy finger across its smooth, metallic curvature. "You cannot destroy the Creator, or else there will be chaos. Nevertheless, now that I have the Mirrormask, her power is subject to mine. She will not be able to untie her shoes without my allowance." 

"What of her daughter and Valentine?" Laverna asked.

"Hermia I have plans for," I said. "Valentine is of no use to me. I'll organize his execution later tonight. He managed to escape the Queen of Shadow's wrath once. He'll not do it again." I gazed again at the Mirrormask, lost in thought. "All of you leave. I have personal business to attend to." All my attendants curtsied and bowed their ways out of the throne room. All save for Laverna, who had her lips pursed expectantly. 

"I do recall the favor I was due once the task was done," she said, her words grating my skin. I hid a scowl with a delicate smile. 

"Yes, of course," I said easily. "However, I am counting on you to be on guard until everything is all sorted out. You will receive your thousand rubies once Hermia's under my influence, Helena's power taken, and Valentine dead." I rubbed my temples. "Something tells me it's going to be a long day tomorrow." I looked up to see Laverna still standing before me. My irritation rose once again. "You are given leave, Laverna," I said icily. She hesitated for only a moment before curtsying and heading out of the room. 

Once she was out of sight, I let my lips curl back over my teeth in a grimace. I hate mercenaries. Free will is not the best quality of those loyal to you. 

Sighing, I slumped in my chair, most unqueen-like, and massaged my temples for a moment. Once most of the headache accumulated by court affairs faded, I stroked the Mirrormask in reverie. Its power purred beneath my hands like a content sphinx. 

"_Irresistible,_" I murmured. All my desires reflected to me in one simple mask. And all I needed to do was place it on my face, and my desires would spring to life from my fingertips. 

Irresistible. 

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**Author's Note: **HOLY FUCKING GOD. Three. More. Chapters. And I shall be done. Pray to whatever gods you pray for, cuz I'm gonna be needing all the help I can get. XD I want this shit DONE BY MAY. 

LOVVVEESSSS. 


	13. Light and Shadow

Try to keep your mind from exploding when it was full to the brim with contradictions

**Author's Note: **My longest chapter yet! El climax! Whoo!

**Reviewers: **

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – Best Mirrormask story in existence? I like the sound of that. XD

Wolfinson – Thanks for loving it! What DO you love about it?

Kuroame16 – It's a bloody shame, isn't it? Such a good movie, and so few people know about it.

MysticStoryteller – Enjoy those cookies. XD (gives more) Thanks. I'm really enjoying writing this. I'll be even happier when I'm finished.

Dylan – You are my rock, you are my drive, and you are my love forever. Thanks for givin' me some lovin' when I need it.

Tenshi no Mugen – Well…it looks like that promise is null and void. XD

HoneyBee1 – I'm glad you like it! Again, I'm careful to make Hermia as real as possible. I've had bad run-ins with Mary-Sues in my early days of writing. XD

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Thirteen_

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Try to keep_ your_ mind from exploding when it was full to the brim with contradictions.

Oh, and not to mention the stomach-wrenching pain in your leg consistently posing a distraction when you're trying to sort through said contradictions of truth and lies, emotions and fears.

So, yes. I was suffering from a mild headache at the moment.

Mum's magic alleviated some of the pain, but I think it was busy dealing with my butchered calf, and didn't consider a little hammer in my temples as much of an importance.

I tried to shift my shoulders in an attempt to find a more comfortable position. This, I soon realized in my efforts, was impossible to accomplish with human physiology. Stifling a frustrated groan, I let myself go limp again. At least the strain in the muscles between my shoulder blades was only caused by an indirect pressure rather than my attempt to straighten myself against an unyielding stone wall.

At the click of my chains from my suddenly lax body, I caught a flinch from the far corner, under the barred, grime-covered window. From what I could gather, Valentine hadn't moved since he first placed himself from his fellow cell-mates' company. The thought of his last engagement of conversation still stung and rattled my head.

What the bloody hell was_ he_ all about? Or, better yet, what the hell did _I_ think of it? A pit of pity stuck in my throat. He seemed so broken when he told the truth, when he faced my disbelief and horror. But the pity was soon followed by a spear of anger in my heart. He played me for the fool, and now what? Was he trying to gain forgiveness for his own selfish peace of mind?

I was such an _idiot_. How could I feel sympathy for someone like that? But, damn it, I felt it still. The look on his face when he couldn't find the forgiveness he so obviously wanted in my eyes…No. The heartache, the betrayal, and the desperation I felt—and still feel—smashed any hope for that.

No, not heartache. It couldn't have been heartache.

Every sin he confessed to, every vision he procured of his treachery, every defense he gave slowly chipped away at my regard for him.

But it certainly wasn't_ heartache_ that inflamed the deep, bitter taste of betrayal.

I hesitated on the thought. Then_ why_ did the thought of it, piercing the fringes of my mind, make my heart feel like it had splintered down the center?

I suddenly was aware that I hadn't taken my eyes off of him throughout this mental debate. This was the first thing I registered, and then I saw that Valentine had deviated from his previous position. For the longest time he had been sitting slumped against the wall, masked face in his hands, and his back to us. Now he had abruptly shifted his body to angle slightly toward my direction. His face was no longer hidden in his hands, though one hand still supported his head, his elbow on a knee. I could see that he wasn't looking at me (though, truth be told, I couldn't really tell) but rather at the ground, his expression blank.

I was immediately caught in an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. Mum was sleeping not too far off, but this emotion ignored her presence. It only measured the distance between Valentine and me. It was as if every one of my senses had narrowed down and made me hyperaware of the silence and of the separation. The burning pit in my stomach flared with a vengeance, a cruelly indicating the conflicting emotions I still held at this point. Part of me still wanted to believe him, for some bloody reason. But how in hell could I trust him anymore? I _shouldn't _trust him anymore. He knew that, he…

"Hermia?"

The stark reality of his voice, as soft and harsh as it was, was like another Bramble cutting through my chest. It was disconcerting; my entire focus narrowed onto Valentine the moment I heard him.

He was looking straight at me now. His face was tight, guarded, and his voice was quiet as not to wake Mum, I guessed. My own voice was caught in my throat. In my mute state, I just stared at him. A short sigh escaped his mouth, moving his shoulders.

"Do…are…I can't…" His lips tightened, as if something was hurting him. _What was he trying to say?_

Then he shook his head and looked back down at the ground. "Is your leg alright?" he whispered gruffly. A huff of shocked disbelief escaped my throat.

"Not exactly," I hissed shortly. "I don't know if you've ever run headlong into a thicket of Cutlass Brambles, but they tend to _sting_ a bit." A tiny bit of satisfaction rose in my chest from my outburst, and from the wince it incited from Valentine.

"You could have dodged them. They aren't all that difficult to notice," he rebuked, frowning.

"I'm sorry, but I was a bit preoccupied with _Shadows_ biting at my heels," I snapped. We both froze when Mum shifted in her sleep, her thin hands clutching her silk robe tighter about her. I waited for her breathing to slow down again until I continued in a lower voice. "Don't blame me for not strategizing my escape as well as_ some_."

Valentine crossed his arms in front of his chest, the uncharacteristic grimace still tightening his face. I suddenly had this irrational urge to see his eyes.

"No, I guess I can't blame you for it," he said quietly, almost to himself. He sighed again. "How bad is it? Does it feel any better?" The guilt was painfully obvious in his voice now.

"Mum's mojo helped, but it still stings a bit," I said, keeping my tone even. Valentine only nodded. Obviously he had nothing more to say.

Unfortunately for him, _I _still did.

"Valentine, for once can you answer me truthfully?" I said, enunciating carefully. His head snapped up, his mouth open as if to argue, but he seemed to rethink himself and simply nodded again. "You lied about betraying my mother—"

"Wrong. I only hid that fact. I never lied about it," he said quickly.

"Granted, but that's an awful important thing to hide," I pointed out. "But you also lied about your motives in helping me get to my mother. Quite straightforwardly, yes?" He said nothing. "Yes?" I pressed for an answer. He still only sat there, hands clenched into tight fists in his sleeves. "Come on Val—"

"Yes, yes, alright, yes!" he stuttered. "I lied about that whole deal. I didn't want Helena to come back. You already heard that whole story bit."

"Yes, I did," I said. I pursed my lips, trying to find a way to word this next question right, somehow get my feelings across so he could understand. I doubted it. Valentine was quite dense when it came to interpreting others. Of course, it would be a simple question, just a yes or no. He didn't have to elaborate on it. He shouldn't elaborate on it. It would just hurt or confuse the situation more.

"Is that all?" Val broke in. He seemed agitated, waiting.

"No," I sighed. I hung my head, stretching out the already over-extended muscles there. I looked up at him. "I wanted to know…I mean, after you hiding so much, your motives completely contradictory to what I'd thought…you know, like when you left me to be taken by the Shadows, but then you ran over and you…" I stuttered to a stop, the confusion furrowing my brow. "I…Val, I don't know what you were thinking. What you _are_ thinking. Were you…did…" I huffed. This was bloody awkward.

Hell, just spit it out. "Did…Do you really care at all what happens to me?"

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That hit me like a ton of very large, very hard bricks. I'm certain I looked lightning-struck, because that's what it felt like.

"Do…I…care?" I stammered, astonishment choking my words. "Hermia, I…I never wanted this to happen! It wasn't my choice to leave you, Laverna made me. I told you this!"

Hermia shook her head impulsively, her piercing eyes trying desperately to scourge out the truth I was already giving her.

"She made you," she echoed. "Alright, so you eventually didn't want to follow her master plan to imprison me with my mother. What else were you going to do about it? You never deviated from her idea to leave me even when you weren't under her spell, all the way to bringing me into Tower. Do you really expect me to believe you were cooking up some counter plan to _actually_ free my mother and get us out of here?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, frustrated.

"You never even thought of it," Hermia answered herself quietly. "That is so like you, Val. Completely in the present. You don't confront problems as they will develop, but only when they are right in your face."

I didn't say anything. The burning hole in my stomach (that damned _guilt_) was beginning to fester again.

"I guess I can't blame you for not thinking about it," she continued icily. "Thinking about nothing but yourself comes all too naturally."

Something tightened in my throat. A horrible sense of déjà vu. This wasn't right. It wasn't _natural_, coming out of _her_ mouth.

_She sounded just like Helena._

"No, you're mostly right. I didn't think about it," I said, my hands in fists again, glaring at her. "It never crossed my mind until Laverna occasionally hissed in my ear about my cow—my indecision. But you can't believe that I was constantly thinking about how things could benefit _me_." A strange sort of desperation was beginning to form in my chest, fluttering like a moth. "Of course I was worried about how to survive in this blasted city; that is _natural_. But…I…I was…_also_…preoccupied with…_other_ things in me head, too, you know."

"Like what?"

I sighed. Her tone was strangely calm, but I couldn't tell if she was really starting to listen to me. The mask in front of her emotions well placed, as always.

"Like…ach, bullocks, like why you gave me back my robe," I said, picking something out wildly.

For a second, Hermia looked stunned, and then her cheeks grew curiously flushed, something I've never seen before. My frustration was suddenly replaced by an aggressive fascination.

"Why_ did_ you give it back?" I asked slowly, picking at the hem of said robe.

"Well…you seemed…well, first I wanted to do something for you after ragging on you about the things with my mother and father and all that," she said. "And I didn't really _need_ it anymore…" She bit her lip, unsure about something.

"There's another reason?" I pressed, wildly curious.

"Yes, well…I thought you looked quite…_defenseless_ without it. Like it was, I dunno, a part of you," Hermia said, inexplicably embarrassed.

"Hmm," I said, gazing at her intently. She quickly looked down. An odd pressure was suddenly in my chest. Not unpleasant, just…odd.

Then, of all the stupid things rattling in my head, Laverna's voice came to the forefront.

"_I don't know who you're trying to fool, Val, but there are too many signs. The way you _look_ at her…"_

"Hermia—"

"'Ey, you!" a gruff voice interrupted, jarring me. I turned my head to see the guard at the doorway. "Face the wall! The Queen 'as called the t'ree o' yas to court. An' you!" He turned to Helena, drowsily opening her eyes. "Wake up an' stand up! None o' tha' hocus-pocus in 'ere. You give us trouble, we give you trouble." He then walked over to me and roughly hoisted me to my feet and shoved me towards the wall.

"Easy there, mate," I muttered over my shoulder as he placed the manacles on my wrists behind my back. He just scoffed and pushed me toward the door into the hands of another guard standing just inside the cell. He then headed toward Hermia hanging on the wall. With little care, he unlocked the shackles on her ankles and then on each wrist. To my horror, she crumpled to the floor with small, pained groan. Instinctively I lunged toward her, but I was restrained easily by the guard. A strange, irrational anger ate away at my throat like acid. The first guard sighed and pulled Hermia up.

"Haggard, git in 'ere," he barked. Another guard entered. "She's not gonna walk, so you gotta carry 'er." The guard called Haggard silently acquiesced, walking over and slinging Hermia harshly over his stone shoulder. A short hiss escaped from my lips.

Then the group of us was led out of the cell. My eyes didn't leave Hermia's pale face for a second.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"And you found nothing else on them?" I asked shortly.

"No, your Highness. Just this book," the squat, flat-nosed lackey told me, offering a small paperback. I nodded toward the guard. He took the book and handed it to me.

"_A Really Useful Book_," I read aloud. "Curious. I thought the last one was eaten by sphinxes ages ago." I opened the book to the first page and read the short sentence scribbled on the plain white page.

_This goes for sphinxes…and Dark Queens, too:_

_Never bite off more than you can chew._

A scowl wrinkled my face.

"A lot of good _you _are," I retorted, throwing it fiercely back to the guard. "Get that thing out of my sight and burn it." The book rustled its pages indignantly in the guard's hand. "Yeah, serves you right." The guard handed it to the lackey and he bowed out of the room.

Just as soon as he left, another guard marched in.

"The prisoners, as you requested, my Queen," he announced.

I sighed, brushing back a strand of hair and adjusting my bejeweled mask.

"Alright, then," I said in a conscientiously-constructed bored tone. "Bring them in."

He motioned towards the hallway, and three other guards entered, each escorting one of the insurgents. Hermia, I noticed, was slung over a shoulder. I raised an eyebrow.

"Now that won't do," I told the first guard icily, gesturing to Hermia. "Put her down. It's vulgar."

"She seems unable to stand on her own, your Majesty," he replied.

"She can't very well stay slumped over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes," I said. "Bring a chair or something—"

"I can stand on my own if he puts me down, thanks," the girl interrupted. Her mask-less face was contorted in contempt as she stared up at me. I cocked my head up, scrutinizing her airily. At the sight of her badly bandaged leg, I doubted she'd be able to stand for long on her own. Well, so be it. All the better to break her will.

"Well, you heard the lady," I told them cordially. "Put her down." I kept the smile to myself when she visibly cringed while gingerly putting weight on her bad leg. I had to commend her, however. She put on rather the convincing poker face. The guard stood behind her, ready to catch her if she bolted.

She won't be able to escape, of course, but I wouldn't bet she wouldn't try.

"Now then. On to business," I started, clasping my hand together, rising gracefully from my throne. "I have discussed with my Council what would be the best road to take with you three. As you all should have known by now, I now possess the Mirrormask." I indicated to my left, towards a small stand. The glittering Mask was protected by one of my 'birds'.

I smiled towards the one who started it all. It still unnerved me to see my twin and her piercing eyes.

"Helena," I said, almost fondly. "Your power waxed and waned with the old Queens. You are now powerless before me. I have replaced you once and for all. But I am merciful. You will continue to live, as, of course, the world will come to an end if you should die. However, this world has a new Creator. I hope you will understand that this transfer of power is not _entirely_ personal."

"Unfortunately that doesn't matter," Helena said, matching my coolness with uncanny accuracy. "Because the balance was destroyed as soon as the Shadows engulfed the White City. It won't be long until even _you _will not be able to control them." I laughed.

"Now, Helena, don't be ridiculous," I said. "You know as well as I do that the Shadows are bound to me, and serve only my wishes. _Lying_ won't save you." I smiled widely, showing my teeth. She said nothing else. "Moving on, right? Valentine, approach me," I ordered.

The robed coward took a tentative step forward. I sneered, and snaked my way slowly down the stairs.

"Oh, Valentine. Don't you remember when we first met?" I purred, stepping close to him. "The trip back to the Palace?" I plucked at a loose tassel of cloth on his robe. "You running like a bat out of hell as soon as you dropped me at my front door?" He grimaced, and I chuckled lightly. "I have to respect you in that sense; it was a wise move. Mama would have squashed you like a fly, and then asked questions." I stuck out my lip, pouting. "I have wished you would have come around sooner after you brought Helena. I had missed you." I enjoyed the way he twitched slightly as I dragged a taloned finger along the edge of his mask. "Ah, well. It's too late now." I sighed. "I'm quite put out with you, you know. You were such a simple man, with simple needs." I rested my hand on his shoulder, brushing at the hair on the nap of his neck, feeling the goosebumps there.

I smiled again, more darkly this time, dropping the flirtatious facade.

"Well, you'll be a lot simpler this evening. A noose about the neck…" I dragged my fingers across said neck. I exulted in the fact that, under the mask and make-up, Valentine had turned several shades paler. "…brings so much into perspective when it comes to the necessities of life. _Air_, for example…"

Valentine stumbled back, slamming into the guard, who immediately restrained him. His chest heaved with the breaths that he now knew were numbered. _His eyes were probably as big as_ saucers_ with fear, _I gloated.

"No…" someone breathed. I turned towards the protestor, not surprised that it was Hermia. Her curiously hazel eyes were wide, and her whole body seemed to be trembling. With emotion or exhaustion, I couldn't tell. Most likely both.

"Now, now, my dear," I soothed. "Valentine slipped away once from his treachery. He's not about to do it again. But I have much better news for you, my love! With your mother out of commission, I thought, why must everyone be punished as such? _You_ haven't done anything. Of course you went to rescue her, it was only natural, but you didn't know better. Why should _you_ be imprisoned or executed? It just didn't seem very fair. At first I thought I could save you with the Lucid Fountain, and let you have pleasant dreams forever. Controlling people as they sleep is quite easy, you know. But then Valentine ruined that plan, too. So I had this marvelous idea! I've been longing for a young little plaything, a little girl I could talk to about unqueenly and queenly things alike. And what better for the two of us than for me to adopt you? You can have everything you want, and I'll have everything I want! How clever, right? The Queen and her Princess. Everyone is happy, and we can have our happily ever after."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Well then, daughter? Come to your Mama and give her a kiss," the Dark Queen smiled, patting her cheek. Something deeply wrong reverberated in the act. My lips curled over my teeth in a contortion of anger.

"I'm never going to be your daughter," I hissed. She seemed unruffled.

"A lesson in manners first, I think," she said simply. She then looked me up and down critically. "And a change of clothes wouldn't hurt." She gestured to the guard behind me. "Take her to the clock room."

"No!" Mum suddenly shrieked. "Not Hermia! You can have her, but don't you _dare_ erase who she is!" I looked at my mother in alarm. _Erase? _The Queen ignored her plea.

"Take the other two back to their cell," she ordered. "Bring Valentine to the gallows precisely at sundown. Oh, why not bring Helena, too? I'm sure she'll be interested to see what justice means in her Dark City." A cold vise constricted my heart at her words. I looked desperately at Valentine. He was already looking at me, a look of pure horror on his face.

"Hermia, oh god…" he wheezed.

"Val, it's alright, it'll be okay, we'll get out of here," I stammered frantically. The guard pulled me across, passing Valentine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Valentine lunge again towards me. Then I felt the guard stumble behind me, knocking me sideways. In the confusion, I heard Valentine's voice speaking hysterically in my ear.

"Hermia, don't let them take you. They're going to try to erase you. You have to fight it, Hermia. I'll know if you're still in there, and I'll help you come back. You have to trust me, Hermia! You have to know that I _do_ care what happens to you, and…ach!"

"Wha' in 'ell are you tryin' ta do?" a guard roared. I felt myself being dragged to my feet, and looked up just in time to see the guard kneeing Val in the gut. He doubled over, gasping in pain. "That'll teach ya, you mongrel."

That was the last I saw of my Mum and Val as the guard hustled me off into one of the dark corridors of the Palace.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I moaned, my forehead pressed on the moldy brick of the cell under the window, my hands grasping the bars that prevented an otherwise easy escape. The sun was inching low over the horizon. My time was just about up, and I had nothing that even resembled an escape plan. Any minute now I would be marched out to dance the gallows jig. But that wasn't the worse bit.

I failed Hermia. Again.

I let go of the bars, slumping to the ground, putting my head in my hands.

"Pull yourself together, Valentine," I heard Helena mutter. "Groaning isn't going to help anything."

"And like you're doing anything?" I snapped. "Why don't you make these bars disappear, then, if you're so clever?"

"They call me the 'Creator', Valentine, not the 'Destroyer'," she said shortly.

"Then turn them into daisies or something."

"I could, but it seems you forget that I have_ this_ thing keeping a damper on my power," she said, pointedly lifting her caged hands. "And now that the Dark Queen has the Mirrormask, I can hardly turn a stick into a leaf, let alone unlock the door."

"Well, there's no use in tha' anyway," the voice of the guard snaked into the room. "Cuz yer time's up."

My blood iced over. No. It was too soon. I wasn't ready for death. Hell, who is ever ready for _death_?

Part of my mind registered exiting the cell with Helena behind me, walking through the hallways, climbing staircases. Then we were outside, and I was faced finally with my end.

There was no crowd, only a small portion of the Anti-Helena's army and a roofed pavilion facing the gallows. Black birds with cruelly sharp beaks circled menacingly over the wooden death structure. I shivered. My mouth was dry.

The guard took hold of the back of my robe and dragged me up to the pavilion, where the Queen and her new Princess sat to watch my execution. The Dark Queen held the Mirrormask securely in her lap.

I knew I would have to face her. I knew that, by now, that the Queen would have done whatever it was the other Queen had done to Helena all those years ago. But even though I had told myself that I was prepared to meet Hermia's empty black eyes, I was totally, irrevocably unprepared for the despair that squeezed the breath from my lungs when I finally saw her.

It was not like Helena. Not at all. Meeting Hermia's soulless black eyes didn't bring up the feeling of guilt as it had with Helena. It was like someone had ripped out my heart and let me watch it splinter into ash.

She sat on the right hand of the Dark Queen, a macabre reversal to how she had looked beside Helena. Her hair was styled straight up, and she was dressed in black, as Helena had been, but the dress draped over her shoulders without the neckpiece, exposing her delicate collarbone and neck, and the material was silk rather than that gauzy stuff Helena wore. She looked beautiful, but it was a painful, unnatural beauty.

It wasn't Hermia.

"Valentine, by the power invested in me, the High Queen of Light and Dark, you are charged with thievery, double-crossing, treason, and cowardice. You are hereby sentenced to hang by the neck until dead. May the Creator have mercy on your soul." Anti-Helena smirked at the irony of her statement. "Do you have any last statements?"

I was hardly listening to her. My eyes were locked onto Hermia's; trying to find some remnant of her somewhere behind those black eyes, hoping against hope that she had trusted me.

"Hermia, I know you're there," I whispered, panic tightening my throat. "Come back."

The Dark Queen gestured harshly, a flash of anger crossing her face. The guard half-dragged me up the stairs to the platform. The noose was there, hanging ominously in the center, a trapdoor under it. My heart was beating wildly in my chest, and I was close to hyperventilating. Coward or not, I did not want to die. At least, I didn't want to die knowing that Hermia was lost to me forever.

The guard handed me over to the executioner, who positioned me in front of the noose. I was feeling light-headed now, about to pass out. Better still. At least I would already be in darkness before I knew what was happening.

"Guard! Restrain her! Make sure she goes nowhere near that platform or the Princess!" I heard the Queen bark. I looked to see Helena being herded a safe distance away from two said locations.

I looked back at Hermia. She was watching me, head cocked to the side…like she was trying to remember something. Misery was now being laced with a desperate hope. She _had_ to remember.

"Hermia, I know you're still in there!" I yelled, my voice high with hysterics. "You have to remember!" She only furrowed her brows, as if she was slightly annoyed. I couldn't tell if I was getting to her.

"Shut him up once and for all," the Queen hissed. The executioner reached over and looped the noose over my head, tightening it about my neck.

"You can't just leave me here, you know," I shouted to Hermia, my body beginning to shake with fear. "Hermia…Hermia, who is going to be your manager? You know if you want to walk on air, you're going to need someone who'll look after you! Who else can catch you if you fall?"

Hermia suddenly froze, and a violent shudder made her close her eyes.

I only felt the noose tight about my neck. And then I heard her say quietly:

"Why do I smell butterscotch?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was like waking from a dream into a nightmare. All I saw was Valentine facing death, and all he could do was look at me. Then the pain in my leg brought my focus into sharp clarity. Both had been dulled by the Queen's magic, and now that it was broken I could see that I had no time.

"Finish him! Now!" Anti-Helena demanded beside me. She was standing, Mirrormask clenched tightly in her hand. She obviously didn't notice me. I looked toward the platform again. The executioner headed toward the lever in the corner of the platform.

"Hermia!" Val cried. The eerily familiar terror in his voice brought it all full circle. My mind sped up, and I knew what I had to do.

Ignoring the protesting pain in my leg, I stood up. A simultaneous _pop_ echoed in my ears, and I leapt with instinctual agility onto the wire. Like eons before, when the Shadows chased me on the rooftop of the hotel, I was running this time. But I knew that with my injured leg I wouldn't have the balance, or the time, to run headlong onto the connecting platform.

So I fluidly executed four cartwheels and two front handsprings to launch myself across the wire. I hit the wooden crossbar on my feet with a jarring _smack. _As I steadied myself, I heard the heart-wrenching sound of a lever being pulled. I looked down to see the trapdoor dropping open under Valentine's feet.

"VAL!" I screamed as I saw him kicking and swinging by his neck, trying to gasp for air like a fish out of water. I had to cut him down.

Sharp, sharp, something sharp. One cut, that's all I need.

_Pop._

A knife appeared in my hand. I didn't think, I only threw myself toward the rope, and slashed at it. The cut was clean, and my relief, too, was also cut short as the two of us fell and landed hard through the trapdoor and onto the solid ground. I rolled over towards Valentine, who was coughing violently and twitching spastically, curling into himself.

"Val! Val! It's okay, hold still!" I told him, taking his arm.

I pulled the noose off of his neck and then swiftly cut the ropes biding his hands. As soon as they were free, his hands grabbed at me, pulling me roughly to him, squishing the air out of my lungs.

"Don't keep me waiting like that again," Valentine's voice rasped weakly in my ear.

"Done and done," I said, finally finding my own voice. "But I think we have some bigger problems at the mo—AH!"

I was cut short by the fact that two guards appeared under the gap beneath the gallows and one grabbed my foot, dragging me out. The other did the same with Valentine. I tried to slash at the hands pulling me with the knife, but it seemed that it didn't work well with creatures made out of stone.

"Laverna neglected to tell me that _you_ shared your mother's talents," Anti-Helena snapped as the two of us were hauled toward the pavilion. "She will be dealt with later. I tried to give you the chance, Hermia. I'm sorry you dismissed it. I have no more use for you if you are to be so…_unreasonable._"

She stepped down to the ground, walking up to us. She looked at me, then at Valentine, looking him up and down in distaste.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you, Valentine," she said silkily. "You never cease to surprise me, even at your impending doom. Well, it looks like I just have to be rid of you both. Vengeful lovers are too much of a handful."

Taking up the Mirrormask, she raised it to her face.

A strange fluttering was all I heard before a small flash of red knocked the Mask out of the Queen's hands.

"What in…?" she snarled.

A small, red book was hovering above the Mask. Somehow it managed to rustle its pages smugly as it flitted from side to side. In a split-second decision, I wrenched myself from the guard's grasp and grabbed for the Mirrormask.

"No!" the Queen yelped, snatching at me. I fell just short of the Mask, bringing her down with me. The two of us froze, and then scrabbled towards the silver Charm.

We both drew up short when a large sphinx leapt in front of it, yowling and hissing violently at us.

It took a moment to realize that a very large number of sphinxes were beginning to enter the gallows clearing.

"Hungry," the cat stated simply, baring its needle-sharp teeth. "Very hungry." Soon the other cats pouring into the clearing started to take up the same mantra.

"Be very still," Valentine cautioned in a low voice as I backed up on my hands and knees. I stopped moving.

A familiar sound of rustling pages made me take my wary eyes off of the sphinx and turn my head. The _Really Useful Book_, noticing my attention, dropped to the ground, open on a page. I leaned over and read the passage quickly.

_Though a sphinx prefers a book's pages above all, paper guards will do just as well. _

A small smile crossed my face. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, adding fuel to my sieve of power.

"What does it say?" Valentine hissed.

"Watch, and you'll find out," I murmured, slowly standing. Mentally I was gathering all the power I could muster, hoping that this would work.

I faced the guard that had been holding me, who was now pointing a spear towards the advancing cats.

"A guard of paper," I said softly, raising my hand toward him. Another _pop_ sounding in my ears and the guard in front of me suddenly looked as if he was origami. It took about half a second for the sphinxes to realize what happened.

Ignoring his screams and the sound of ripped paper, I turned on the army of stone soldiers and released my power.

The chaos was immense, as was the carpet of shredded paper beginning to form on the ground. I raced towards Mum, and used my dwindling power to unlock the case binding her hands.

"This will stop!" a feminine voice pierced through the screams of the paper army. I whipped around, and saw the Dark Queen standing on the pavilion, murder in her eyes. Then she opened her mouth. To my horror, a shrieking, swirling black mass erupted from her lips. They rose with vicious speed hundreds of feet above our heads.

"Shadows," I breathed.

After she emptied her mouth, her focus shot back towards Mum, her face filled with unbridled hate.

"Destroy the Creator," she said.

And my mother smiled grimly.

The resounding boom echoed through the forest, shaking the knarled trees and stopping the sphinxes in the middle of their massacre. The earth seemed to buckle and groan under some unseen weight. The Shadows, swirling above us, began to writhe and twitch in an erratic sort of way.

"Oh, my dear Queen," Mum said in a tired voice. "Did you not remember what will happen if you try to destroy me?"

Anti-Helena's face contorted with a sudden fear. She looked up. The Shadows were beginning to move faster, and convulsed grotesquely towards the Dark Queen.

"It can only rebound upon the order," my mother answered sadly.

"Help me!" the Queen cried desperately. "If the world has no Queen, then everything is doomed. The balance will never be truly restored! I am the last being keeping the pieces together!"

The _Really Useful Book_ instantly appeared by my haggard-looking mother. She plucked it out of the air, opening it. A strange look crossed her face, her large brown eyes flashing with some inspiration. She looked at me with a piercing gaze.

"Make a pencil," she told me.

"What?"

"Do it!"

With a startled _pop_, I obeyed her order, handing over a stubby pencil. She snatched it out of my hand and began furiously scribbling in the _Really Useful Book._ I looked back toward the Queen.

The Shadows were beginning to descend on her, cutting off an escape, whirling brutally about her. Her screams for help were becoming drowned by the roar of the Shadows.

"Valentine! The Mirrormask! Throw it to me!" Mum cried above the roar. Valentine, looking stunned, quickly grabbed the Mask on the ground and tossed it hard toward my mother. I was sure she was going to miss it, but she plucked it out of the air and placed it on her face, stepping toward me. In her hand was an open page of the _Book_.

"Forgive me, Hermia," she said sheepishly as she handed it to me. Confused, I took it from her and looked at it.

It was a drawing of the White Palace. In front of it was a small, but finely detailed figure. She was positioned in front of the gargantuan entry, and a delicate crown of the Light Queen adorned her head.

It was me.

I looked back up at my mother in astonishment. She said nothing, but only grasped my hand.

The _pop_ happened again. But instead of a small, annoying, altitude-change kind of _pop _in your ears, it came out more like a

**BANG.**

I felt like I should have been knocked off my feet from the force of it. Instead the power stayed, buzzing throughout my entire body.

"Hermia, only you can stop the Shadows from killing the Dark Queen," Mum explained quickly through my daze. "Do it now, before it's too late."

I took two gulps of air, steadying myself. I looked up towards the spinning mass of black. The Queen was nearly obscured by it.

"The balance is restored. I am the Queen of Light. She is the Queen of Dark. You cannot destroy her without destroying yourself and this existence." My voice sounded like it could never carry over the deafening shriek of the Shadows and the quaking of the earth.

But, like turning a switch, it stopped. I blinked in shock.

The Shadows had rapidly dissipated. The Dark Queen seemed to absorb it back into her body rather than it destroying her.

A soft sigh seemed to brush through my body as the ground settled.

With a small 'huff', I slowly levered myself to the ground, fighting 1: to keep my body from going into shock, and 2: to keep from blacking out. Both were highly likely scenarios at the moment.

"Hermia!" Valentine shouted, running over to me. "Are you alright? You're not hurt are you? And what the bloody hell just happened?!"

I simply smiled up at him, giggling weakly.

"Did you know you smell like butterscotch?"

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note:** No! No! 'Tis not the end!! Two more chapters, my doves!! Hold on there! Oh, and props to Princess-RainbowRose for the continual idea that Val smells like butterscotch. I know I once referenced him to smell like cotton candy, but I've decided that the evil-Dark-magic dust smells like cotton candy, and though I was PLANNING to make him smell like apple cider, butterscotch got stuck in my head! (shakes fist ruefully at reviewer)

REVIEWWWW!


	14. Choice

The silly girl was grinning up at me like a loon

**Reviewers:**

Dylan – I'm getting there, see? And I love the whole butterscotch thing too. I thought it was cute.

Dreaming-of-a-Nightmare – Well, that's me in a nutshell. Artsy. XD I'm glad you like my fic! A new reviewer is always great to hear from.

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Fourteen_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The silly girl was grinning up at me like a loon. My shoulders slumped in both relief and disbelief. I found myself kneeling beside her, my hidden eyes free to make sure she was in one piece.

"Butterscotch. Really?" I quipped weakly. "Are you sure that bloody spell isn't still muddling your head?"

A hysterical little chortle escaped Hermia's lips before she slowly lowered herself all the way to the ground, the silk of her black dress crumpling as she rested her head on her arm. Her fatigue blanched her face, and she was taking deep, shaky breaths.

"You alright? You're not hurt, are you?" I repeated, my tense anxiety seeping into my voice. She exhaled loudly into the crook of her arm.

"A little too much excitement, I think," she muttered, not moving. "Just give me a minute." The scenario was so similar to the one in the pit at the Borderlands I almost laughed.

Somewhat reassured she wasn't mortally injured, I looked up and around to assess what all was going on. Helena was quietly talking to the Dark Queen, who was ashen under her mask and was leaning heavily on a tree stump. A few of the once-stone-now-paper soldiers were rapidly carrying some of their fallen comrades away from the seemingly sated sphinxes. The darkness in the sky that had almost been absolute was beginning to dissipate back into its original eerie shadowy orange. I looked back down at Hermia, whose eyes were closed and whose breathing was becoming steadier. An irrational feeling of protectiveness overwhelmed me as I hovered above her vulnerable form. I ground my teeth together.

_You're not going to be able to deny it much longer, _a small voice teased from the back of my head. My breath catching in my throat, I forced the voice back into silence. I coughed, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. I tore my eyes away from her as she opened hers to meet mine. Heat rose to my face, and again I was thankful I had both face paint and a mask.

"_You're_ okay, too?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice. I smirked at her, covering my discomfort with jokes. Again.

"Besides hanging from my neck and subsequentially falling, bound and gagged, from said position? I'm fine," I said.

"Yeah, about that…" she muttered, levering herself slowly back up to a sitting position. I waved it off.

"Forget it. No permanent harm done," I told her, grinning. She grinned back, and then passed a hand over her face, sighing.

"Think we're getting out of here sooner or later?" she asked, looking over at her mother and her look-alike.

"I _hope _so," I muttered. "This place is creepier than a fish in water." Hermia shot me a baffled look, and then promptly burst into giggles. I sighed. "You_ are _still tripping on the Queen's moon dust." That redoubled her laughter, leaving her gasping for air. "God, are you actually _tearing up_? Hey, Helena, I think we are going to have to carry your daughter back to the City of Light. She's going into hysterics." Chuckling myself, I turned back to Hermia, who was back on the ground, choking on her laughter into a corner of my robe. "Relax, you poor woman. I know it's hard to resist my devilish charms, but you're going to suffocate like that." The giggles, if anything, intensified. I sighed again in exasperation. "You_ do_ know that if the Queen had known my comedic nature would kill you, we could have skipped all this business with the Shadows and just let me work everything out." I smiled in spite of myself at her giddy condition. My hand impulsively went to stroke her shoulder, but I paused, suddenly afraid for some reason I didn't want to think about.

_Oh, feed it to the Shadows,_ I growled in my head, continuing with my previous motion and hesitantly placed my hand on her trembling shoulder. The first thought that came to my mind was how soft her skin was, how delicately her bare shoulders were shaped. The second was the realization that Hermia was beautiful.

And the third thought that came to my mind was from that voice in the back of my head.

_I told you so._

With a sharp intake of breath, I found Hermia's laughter subsiding, and her body rising back to face me. And my hand was still on her shoulder. A fading smile was on her lips, replaced by a burning curiosity in her hazel eyes. I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to move when every reasonable atom in my being told me I should.

"Hermia, there is work to do in the White City."

I took my hand away, a strange bitterness settling in my stomach. Helena's voice broke through the bubble of stillness I tried so hard to keep from breaking myself.

Hermia's mother approached us, throwing me a pointed glance before turning her attention towards her daughter.

"I think we need to talk about a few things," Helena said gently. "Including your new position, I believe. The Dark Queen is suddenly very cooperative about her hospitality. We are to be accommodated until we can make the journey back into the City of Light."

"Tower can always do that," I said suddenly. "I mean, why wait? You can stay in Tower while you two work on the city, and until the Palace is rebuilt and all that. Besides," I lowered my voice, "I'm not so sure if the Queen should be that trusted to keep that hospitality, eh? Better safe than in the hands of the politically corrupt, right?"

"Oh, in the hands of a double-con is any safer?" Helena retorted. I began to argue until I noticed that the venom wasn't really behind the jab. "I think it would be best to stay for a few days, just until Hermia and I can figure a few things out." I shrugged in acquiescence. "However…" She paused, as if evaluating what she would say next. Her hesitance intrigued me. I motioned her to continue. She sighed. "However, I believe it _would_ take a while to rebuild the city. The Palace would be secondary to the homes and businesses destroyed by the Shadows. So…I think, if you would oblige us, it would work out quite well if we could stay in Tower until we finish rebuilding." She pressed her lips together, waiting for my reply. I slowly stood, pretending to think about it for a moment. Then I bowed extravagantly.

"What is an important man to do if _not _to extend his goodwill to those in need of it?" I asked, grinning. A seed of triumph implanted itself into my heart when a flicker of a smile ghosted Helena's lips. Well, it was a start.

"It's his _reliability_ that worries me," she replied dryly. She then approached Hermia, kneeling down beside her. After a moment's hesitation, Helena threw her arms about her daughter and hugged her tightly. "You have no idea how proud I am of you, love," she murmured tearfully. "You are a brave young woman, and you'll be a wonderful leader."

Hermia laughed in her mother's embrace. "I had a lot of help," she replied quietly, looking over Helena's shoulder at me. I smiled weakly in embarrassment, shrugging at her.

"Well," Helena cleared her throat, pulling away. She helped Hermia to her feet. "Either way, you and I need to discuss some important details about your future." Hermia groaned.

"Why does this sound so familiar?" she muttered through her teeth.

"Don't worry, I'm not trying to force you to go to college again," Helena said, a small smile alighting her lips.

"Yeah, but you _are_ going to be trying to force me to govern a city," Hermia replied. "Both involve me being kicked out of the house."

"Hermia," Helena said firmly, the mirth gone from her tone. "Look me in the eyes and tell me whether or not this is the right thing to do."

"I dunno, Mum. You kind of dropped it on my shoulders without me being able to think about it much."

"Do you really think you're not the right person to be the Queen of Light? Or do you have someone else in mind?"

"Well that's a bit of an incontestable argument, don't you think?" I told her. Part of my mind registered that I had taken a protective step towards Hermia. "Let it be her choice. This is _her_ future you're talking about. She's the one who should be in control of it…for the important stuff anyway." Hermia shot me a small, but grateful smile. Helena pursed her lips together in annoyance, and then sighed with submission.

"Alright, then. Hermia, you have your two choices. You either leave this world and come back home to your old life at the circus, or you stay here the rest of your life at reign as Queen of Light. I can't promise you happiness in either choice," Helena warned. "You have to guess at that."

It was that moment that I realized that Hermia could be leaving me—er, I meant _this world_—forever. The feeling that realization left me with was the bizarre sensation of mild panic. Part of me felt that this was a bit inappropriate for the situation at hand. Sadness would be a bit more reasonable, but _panic_?

Hermia looked at me for a moment with a flick of her eyes, but passed a hand over her face, hiding the action.

"I would be able to come back to this world, right? If I choose to go back home?" she said slowly.

"Only in your dreams, love," Helena said. "I'm going to destroy the Mirrormask as soon as I get back home. No more creations. As soon as everything is in order, I'm retiring from being Creator."

"What?" I gaped in disbelief. She smiled at me grimly.

"It took a while for me to warm up to the idea, but in that dungeon I promised myself that if, by some act of providence, we were able to escape with our lives, I would relinquish my station as Creator. I think it's time for this world to create on its own, for the people to make their choices without me as judge and jury and all that."

"Then who will keep everything from going into chaos?" Hermia said.

"Why, the two Queens, of course," Helena told her. "The power of the Mirrormask has to be dispersed _somewhere._"

"So, either way, I'll never be able to see you or Dad again, or I'll never see Val—the, erm, this world again."

"It's not quite that absolute," Helena said gently. "I'm sure I can coax your father into trusting his dreams of you."

"But…the circus…" A heart-wrenching note of longing lodged itself into Hermia's voice. Helena hesitated, unable to contribute a comfort to her daughter regarding her love of the high wire.

"Again, Hermia, it's your choice," Helena said, eyes soft with sympathy. Hermia then turned her gaze at me, and my stomach twisted at her pained indecision. She sat back down on the ground.

"Give me a minute," she said, placing her head in her hands. Helena and I reluctantly left Hermia to her thoughts, walking toward the abandoned pavilion. It looked like Anti-Helena had gone back into the palace with her guards.

As soon as we were well out of earshot, Helena turned to me.

"You want her to stay!" she hissed accusingly, prodding me in the chest.

"So what? So do you!" I snapped back. I rubbed the spot she poked on my chest, frowning. "Besides, there's no other candidate for the throne, isn't there? So she really doesn't have a choice."

"You hypocrite!" Helena said, laughing coldly. "Then what, may I ask, was that load of bollocks you were going on about with the 'control over her own future' and all?"

"_You_ had her in a corner! With all that you were telling her, she believed she had no choice _at all_. At least _now_ she can weigh both options without that kind of thing looming over her head," I told her, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"Very well, at least she has that," she stated, irritated.

The two of us stood in silence, watching Hermia for any changes. She was still sitting there, her hands covering her face in concentration. Helena sighed.

"I'm not stupid, you know," she said softly. I looked at her, puzzled. She gestured wearily towards her daughter. "Hermia's fond of you. A senile Mask Shop lady could have deduced that. And I can tell you're not as indifferent towards her as you think you should be." I opened my mouth in protest, but she raised a hand to silence me. "I was wrong, Valentine. You have changed. In precious few ways, but nevertheless, you _have_ changed. And for that I might be a tad more lenient if certain circumstances arise."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Liar.

"Of course." She was about as convinced as I was. "Well, whatever her choice, I just want to be sure that she will be happy."

"That makes the two of us," I muttered, only partially surprised to find that it was the truth.

What the hell was happening to me? Where is the old selfish, cowardly Valentine I had such confidence and comfort in? Why did my heart feel like it was throbbing with some strange kind of pleasurable pain? Why is it, looking at her now, a part of me is screaming to take Hermia's hands off of her face so I can see those disturbing, perceptive, curious, beautiful eyes? Why do I feel like a piece of me will die if she leaves?

And why the hell would I prefer _Hermia_ to be happy, even if I know it could cause _me _pain if she's gone?

_You're almost there,_ that damned voice in the back of my head snickered. In my strange panic, I shoved it, smothered it, deathly afraid of what was happening to me.

It was then that I saw Hermia's hands leave her face. I watched her stand and walk towards the two of us, her fiercely resolute decision carved deeply into those enchanting eyes.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It occurred to me, in a very off-hand sort of way, that a coronation in this day and age is a very rare thing.

It also occurred to me, as I readied myself for the grueling two-hour process, this was probably due to the simple bloody _length_ of the damn thing.

So there I was, alone in the corridor in my crystalline dress and the weight that went with it. Hands shaking slightly, I adjusted my pinned-up hair again for the thousandth time. It took them hours to get my stubbornly straight, thin hair into those pretty, wispy little spirals. I was never one for exhausting my time on being prettied up, but I had to admit, I did look fairly decent.

The dress, too, was quite complimentary to my tall, boyish frame. Mum told me it had been sewn by the spider-women who lived in the Diamond Caves up in the north. I laughed at her, of course, thinking she was teasing me again about my ignorance of the Mirror World. But I stopped laughing when an eight-legged, eight-eyed, blond-haired seamstress came into the palace to hem the dress a week before the coronation. I had to hand it to them, though; the dress was exquisite. If it wasn't so weighed down by the thousands of pearl-like diamonds, the fabric itself would be light as air and softer than silk.

I adjusted the white mask over my eyes before bringing my hands back to my side, satisfied that my hair hadn't fallen into tatters yet by my impatient pacing. Thousands of scenarios in which I would botch up the entire ceremony passed through my mind in the time I waited as the mass of guests from both the City of Light and the Land of Shadows gathered in their seats.

Ever since the whole Land of Shadows fiasco, the Dark Queen and I started a civil, but still uneasy relationship. Over the next few months when Mum and I were rebuilding the city, Anti-Helena offered help through borrowed soldiers.

By the way, I eventually _did_ turn the paper soldiers back into their old stone selves. The Queen was quite pleased about that.

Once the city was, physically, back on its feet, the citizens of the City of Light came back in with a promise of stability through a new Queen. That's when things got political, of course. Hours upon hours of dignitary meetings and diplomatic conventions and exhausting things like that. And I wasn't even Queen yet.

Anxious to see if the ceremony had even started, I pressed my ear against the huge oak doors separating me from the gargantuan auditorium where similar important matters of state would be occurring after this coronation. Oh yeah, and it's where my throne was. It took me all those months in pre-royalty training, and hyperventilation, to accept the fact that I was to be a queen and I was still having cold feet about it.

The guests were settled now. The Prime Minister, who I had only recently found out was the Mirror-World version of my grandfather, was beginning the preceding of the ceremony, speaking of the momentous occasion that was upon us, the great reign of our previous Queen, etc. etc. The well-rehearsed speech did nothing to calm my nerves. It only frazzled them more to be reminded that I had to speak just as eloquently when I repeated my vows as Queen of Light. I didn't have to memorize anything at least. Thank god. As if I didn't have to worry about tripping over the hem of my dress, or stuttering, or coming down with a severe case of stage fright for the first time in my life.

Finally those dreaded words;

"And now, revered guests, may I present to you, your chosen Queen; Her Majesty, the esteemed Hermia Bagwell."

The huge oak doors swung open, and the blinding light cleanly wiped away any coherent thought from my mind. A tight ball of panic lodged itself in my throat. I forced my legs to move in time with the music trumpeting over the sound of a thousand people getting to their feet. I tried to keep my breath level, trying to get myself to imagine that I was just about to perform on the high wire, a place where I felt totally in control. It helped, but only a little. I hardly knew any of these faces staring at me. I wished I could hurry to the front, where my mother and the Prime Minister was standing, but I had to wait those agonizing moments to walk down the carpeted aisle correctly.

It was near the front of the auditorium—_I was almost there!_—when I tripped on the hem of my dress. Time seemed to slow as the weight of my dress seemed positive that I would fall to the ground. I held my breath to await the impact.

But in the split second that I had lost my balance, someone grabbed my left arm, steadying me. Eyes wide with shock, I looked to see who my rescuer had been.

A curious pool of calming warmth spread through my chest when I saw that familiar smirk and that purpled-striped mask. Valentine, in an uncharacteristically dashing vest and trousers and a characteristically garish hat, leaned over to my ear.

"You might want to watch your step," he muttered cheerfully before gently patting my arm and releasing me. A surge of renewed confidence came to me, and I gave him a brief smile of thanks before continuing down the hall up the steps to the throne.

The rest of the ceremony went by uneventfully, save the fact I was officially crowned Queen of the City of Light, of course. After the crowd dispersed to celebrate at various sites, I was ushered back into my new room, the old Queen's bedroom, to be changed out of my official dress and robe and the ermine-lined, jeweled crown, and into a more practical, lighter gown and simple, silver circlet.

There was to be a more official party in the palace ballroom, where I would be presented to certain important members of state on both sides of the world. Mum was there the whole time, giving me words of praise and encouragement as my ladies in waiting fussed over my hair again.

All in all, the process was quite chaotic.

Finally, once I was ready I was escorted to the ballroom, were there was more ceremony and bowing and speeches. I was ravenous, hardly listening to the proceedings as I concentrated on the fact that the banquet would soon be served. Across the ballroom, I caught Val's eye, and knew he was suffering about as much as I was.

Eventually, the formalities ceased and we were allowed to eat and socialize as we pleased. After putting up with a few ladder-climbers and insufferably pompous heads of state, I was relieved to find my dreadfully boring conversation with the Chairman of Business interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

"May I steal her Majesty for a moment?" Valentine interjected. I flashed him a grateful grin for the second time today.

"If her Majesty wishes," the thin-lipped Chairman replied icily, obviously irritated that a man without rank would dare to interrupt his conversation with the Queen.

"My Majesty does," I stated with a cool smile. The Chairman, fighting a frown, bowed stiffly and walked away.

"Let's go to the terrace," Val suggested loftily. "You should thank me for interjecting. He seemed like he could talk about the inflation rate of turnips for hours." I laughed, taking his proffered arm. We walked out to the brightly lit terrace looking out over the City. Fireworks exploded in the distance and various sounds of rowdier celebrations were a lot louder outside.

Valentine withdrew his arm and leaned on the rail. He was wearing the same outfit he had on during the coronation. He had on a light green vest over a loose beige tunic and black trousers tucked into a new pair of black leather boots. His hat, of course, nearly ruined the whole effect simply by its extravagance. It was ridiculously broad-rimmed and the same shade of green as his vest, with a large, bright peacock feather drooping down the back.

Val noticed me examining his outfit and groaned.

"Your mother insisted that I not wear my usual clothes to your coronation," he told me wryly. "It took me forever to convince her to let me at least wear _this_." He took the hat off of his head and brushed it off fondly before tossing it to the side.

"It _is_ an eye-catcher," I said with a sardonic grin.

"So was that crown of yours," he replied. "Good god, how much did that weigh? With all of those stones, it looked like it would crush your skull."

"It wasn't as heavy as that dress," I told him. "By the way, I didn't have a chance to thank you for saving me from a very embarrassing fall."

"Don't expect me to be there _every_ time you accidentally trip over a diamond-studded gown," he said. "You know, someone could think you were about to be fed to the Shadows the way you were walking up there."

"The pressure was immense, as you can imagine," I said. "Bloody hell, I was nervous. I don't think I could be so nervous again, even if I was to get married."

"Really?" Valentine said with an odd sort of discomfort in his voice. The two of us fell into silence, leaning side by side on the railing, watching the dozens of fireworks dazzling the night sky in the distance.

"I have a washer waiting for me outside the gates," Valentine suddenly said quietly.

"Oh? You're leaving so early?" I said, turning my head to look at him. He had his head down.

"Erm, yeah," he said. "Well, you see, Tower and I…I'm…_we_ are going away for a while." My brow knitted together.

"A while?"

"Yeah. You see, I've been thinking, and I think it would be good for me to expand my horizons. Find new things to do, as it were. I don't have much of a steady job, and I want to, you know. See what's out there."

Valentine? Leaving? No, that's not right.

The tight knot in my throat returned, making my heart pound against my ribs.

"Why not stay here, though? I'm sure I can find you a job in the palace somewhere," I said, keeping my voice even. I forced a smile on my face. "You can be my jester." Valentine looked at me with a wry grin on his face.

"I," he said, crossing his arms, "am _not _going to be your jester."

"I didn't think so," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "So, you…ah, you want to leave."

"Well, you know, I'm pretty tired of the city. There'll be a whole lot of new things that'll pop up once the Creator's gone. I want to see what I can do with that kind of freedom."

"What are you thinking of doing?" I asked. A dead weight had suddenly dropped into my stomach.

"I'll be juggling, as per usual. Maybe a bit of card tricks here and there. I might try to find meself a partner in crime. I haven't had one in years, and I've only had two. Bing and…Laverna, actually."

"Really? Laverna?"

"Yeah. But our, ah, _arrangement_ ended when she sabotaged my act," Val told me. "I was going to be juggling fire batons at this new place. Blackbug Circle, it was. Laverna told me that they never saw a juggler juggle fire before. Something new that would raise our profit, right? Well, I let her handle setting things up for the show. Everything was going fine. Crowd was a bit dull, but…well, then I brought out the fire batons." I noticed he was unconsciously clenching his fists.

"I knew she liked to make bets with the crowd. She did at every show, bringing in the extra money because she could pretend to be one of them. She and I made arrangements so that she would never lose. So there you are. I'm a cheat, not a thief." He laughed dryly. "Anyway, little did _I _know that that night she put in money guaranteeing I would burn myself. Of course, everyone already saw how good I was, so she made a tidy profit by the end of the night." Valentine shrugged with a grim smile on his face. "I was stupid, naïve. Laverna conveniently _forgot_ to put flame retardant on the handles."

He reached out his hands to me. Flicking my eyes to his face, I gently took them in my own hands, examining them. For the first time, I noticed the faded scar tissue there on his palms. A sort of cold shock prevented me from tearing my eyes away.

"I told myself I should have bought those metal ones," he muttered. The image of those scorched batons with the engraved snakes rose to my memory. After a moment, I slowly reached own to my ankle, pulling out the knife I kept there. Mum insisted that I carry it after a long lecture on assassins and the overall danger of being Queen. Wordlessly I placed it into Valentine's scarred palm. He looked it over, then ran his fingers over the snake engraved on the handle.

"Who made this?" he asked. A small frown adorned his lips.

"I did," I replied, sheepish. "It's the knife I used to cut the noose from your neck."

"How did you know about my…" His mouth dropped in realization. "Tower let you in my room! I told her! I _told_ her not to! When I get back…" With a frustrated groan, he hid his face in his hands. "'S'so embarrassing…"

"Oh, Val. No it's not," I said, smiling slightly. "It was interesting. I…I got to see the man _behind_ the mask."

"Oh yeah? And what was he like?" he said slowly, removing his hands from his face.

"Terribly messy, for one," I teased." But all men are like that, I suppose. But also mysterious."

"Mysterious, eh?" Valentine smirked, his mood lifting. "What kind of mysterious?"

"The 'masked man with a past' kind of mysterious," I told him with a straight face, poking him in the arm.

"I think I like that. Very _Zorro._" I rolled my eyes. He gagged in mock disgust.

"Oh, come on. It can't bother you any more, can it?"

"Even with that lovely mask, you still don't look like you have a proper face," he said, falsely indignant. I harrumphed, taking the silk-covered mask off of my face. Valentine looked at me with a weird expression.

"What?" I asked, self-conscious.

"Oh, nothing…er, you look better without the mask. I mean…" He paused, looking uncomfortable. "What's the point if I still see your eyes, right?" The excuse seemed half-assed.

"Is there something wrong with my eyes?" I demanded.

"No, of course not!" he stuttered out. "They're beautiful, it's that…" Valentine seemed to freeze, like he had said something he didn't mean to say.

"You think my eyes are…beautiful?" I wheedled, my lips pulling into a teasing smirk. A stream of incoherent objections came out of Valentine's mouth, along with some defensive flailing of the arms. I laughed, and placed a restraining hand on his mouth.

"I think that was a yes or no kind of question," I said, a small part of me quivering with a giddy kind of emotion. I removed my hand, trying to put on a calm air as I watched Valentine turn back to the railing, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar uncomfortable gesture.

"Alright. Yes. When you're not contorting them," he said quickly, shoulders hunched. He still wasn't looking at me.

"Fair enough," I replied, going back to watching the fireworks. I sighed. I didn't want to bring up the subject again, but I wanted to drop a few more hints for Valentine to consider before he left. "You know, Valentine…" I trailed off.

"What?" he asked. I could sense his discomfort easing. I chewed my lip for a moment, thinking.

"I have to admit…things around aren't going to be as…exciting with you gone," I said, my voice soft. I think Valentine heard the sadness behind the smile, because he tried to pat me on the arm reassuringly.

"You'll get into plenty of mishaps while I'm away, I'm sure," he told me.

"I might try to fall on my face again at important meetings," I warned him.

"You're pretty good at taking care of yourself," he said, shrugging. "But _do_ be careful about those kinds of things. You do tend to end up on the ground in critical situations." I smiled slightly.

"I won't have anyone to talk to," I argued. _How many excuses _can _you come up with, Hermia? You know he's not going to change his mind just on a silly woman's whim. _

"I don't think you'll have much trouble with that," Valentine replied, although I thought I heard some sort of reluctance in his tone.

"Valentine…" I sighed, giving up. I leaned my elbow on the rail, resting my chin on it. I tried to keep the panic I knew was boiling in my stomach covered with irritation as not to alarm Val. It just wouldn't do to have him think I couldn't mentally handle him leaving without hyperventilating. I can let _that_ happen later. Preferably in private.

It took me a second to notice Valentine leaning sideways, trying to see my face. A concerned frown indicated his slight perception of my inner turmoil.

"You don't want me to go," he said finally, a note of sadness in his voice. That nearly did me in. I leaned back, wrapping my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself together. I couldn't let these feelings control me. I need to let him…_them_ go before they started tearing my up from the inside out.

"No," I breathed, fighting to bring back a countenance of calm. I saw a movement from the corner of my eye, but I didn't register what it was until I felt a warm hand on my cheek. With a sharp intake of breath, I looked at Valentine. His fingers lightly brushed my jaw line, his thumb resting on my cheekbone.

I wish I could see his eyes.

His breath moved the wisps of hair that had dislodged themselves from their pins, he was so close to me.

With a short hesitation, I leaned in towards him.

"Hermia! Hermia, where are you?" my mother's voice ghosted towards us from inside the ballroom. Valentine had already pulled away when Mum came out onto the terrace. A bitter taste rose in the back of my mouth. "There you are! I'm sorry, dear, but you have so many guests still clamoring to talk to you. Don't give me that look. You can retire soon, I promise."

"I'll be there in a minute," I told her, my voice flat.

Her eyes flitted from me to Valentine and back again. A knowing look passed across her face. "I'll be waiting with the Chairman of Foreign Affairs," she said. She left the terrace. My shoulders went slack. I couldn't bear to look at Valentine.

"Hermia…" His voice cracked, and my breath hitched. My arms went back to cross my chest, restraining the flood that would pour out if I didn't try.

"When are you going to be back?" I asked, my voice carefully still.

"When I can," he said quietly. I paused at the indecision in his voice.

"Are you going to be back?"

Silence. Then he sighed. I looked up at him, fear like acid in my stomach. He smiled uncertainly.

"I will. Trust me," Valentine said. I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and smiled back at him, unsure of myself.

"Alright," I said, looking back out at the night sky. Fish drifted lazily among the smoky stars in the distance. "Are you leaving now?"

"I probably should be going," he answered. I took a deep, silent breath and turned to him. I readied myself to say goodbye, dread lodged with the panic in my stomach,

Then Valentine took my shoulders, and pulled me into a desperate, crushing embrace. Involuntarily, a dry sob escaped my mouth, but I still kept the tears locked in my chest, burning my throat. I pulled my arms from their crossed position and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him closer. I buried my face into his shoulder, trying to memorize the smell of butterscotch that was so familiar, that was so incredibly _Valentine._

Eventually it was me who pulled away. I tried to keep my breathing steady.

Valentine took my hand, squeezed it gently, and quietly left.

I stay out in the terrace for a few more minutes, arms again wrapped across my chest, trying to keep it from splintering from the hole that was left.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"The bloody Queen of Light.

"I mean, I'm sure she'll be fine. Hell, maybe she'll forget all about me while I'm gone. She'll be so busy with all that queenly business, she won't have the time to think about me. It's probably for the best.

"It's normal for me to be worried about her, right? She looked like she was going to rip at the _seams_ when I left…" I slammed a fist into the metal of the washer. "I should have just said goodbye! Why the bloody hell did I linger like that? Why couldn't I just keep my distance? It would have been better letting her off easy, without the idea that I might…care about her. That would have been the self_less_ way to get around to leaving, right? Right?"

The driver only shrugged, and then held out his hand. I sighed, and handed the man a few coins before hopping off the washer and heading toward Tower, who was waiting at the outskirts of the city.

'_Sounds like there was quite a party,'_ she said as I glumly entered the front door. _'Wish I was invited…' _I didn't answer her. That irritated her enough. _'She was wearing a white dress, wasn't she?' _she commented snidely.

"Shut up, Tower," I muttered, climbing the staircase to the navigation room. "Now's not the time."

'_You told her, didn't you?'_ Tower said, this time a little more sympathetic. I winced.

"I told her I was leaving," I said. Was my voice really as dead as it sounded?

'_That's all? I thought you were going to tell her you lov—'_

"That's enough, Tower," I snapped.

I reached the navigation room, and crossed it to head towards the window. I looked out over the city, towards the White Palace gleaming like a crystalline jewel in the center.

'_Where to, then, Valentine?'_ Tower asked.

"Blackbug Circle."

The memory of that botched performance was pushed aside, only to be replaced by Hermia's pale face. But it wasn't the way she smiled at me when I caught her at the coronation, or how she looked when I made her laugh. What was branded in my memory were her clear, wounded eyes that I had admitted aloud were beautiful.

And I didn't even have the guts to tell her how much it killed me to see them like that.

"I am such a cowardly bastard," I whispered to myself, slowly lowering myself onto a leather armchair as Tower leapt into flight, the City of Light falling farther and farther away.

I had to come back for her. I just hoped she could trust me more than I trusted myself.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note: **Guess what?

ONE MORE FRIGGIN CHAPTER!!


	15. If I Apologized

Then, a thought came into my head

**Author's Note: **This is it, guys. The last chapter. That's all I have to say.

**Reviewers: **

Dylan – What do I have to say? I love you. XD

Wolfinson – This may be too much to ask, but can you give me a little more of a detailed review next time? I'd love that.

Phyllis Joy Wolfe – Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I was moving to Bolivia, no internet. I hope this makes up for it! Thanks so much for loving my fic! You gets kudos and cupcakes.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world or the characters of the movie 'MirrorMask'. _That _is the work of the amazing Neil Gaiman and Dave Kean. What few characters I _do _own are Hermia, Laverna, Barnaby, and the random little people you didn't see in the movie. I also don't have the rights to Harry Potter. Or the Blue people. That's all Beatles, whom I love. (silence) Hello? 'To The Benefit of Mr. Kite' reference? Yes? No? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? Oh, never mind.

_**Walking on Air**_

_Chapter Fifteen_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"My Queen, the Prime Minister is expecting the reviewed guest list for the ball. He asked me to inform you that he will be waiting in the Library." The white-masked servant was as ramrod straight and unbending as always as he watched me practice on the high wire strung on the southern end of the room. I ordered it installed as a personal comfort since most royal matters didn't include doing cartwheels on a string for an audience. I sighed and made my way steadily across the room and descended down the ladder.

"Tell the Prime Minister I will be with him shortly," I said. The servant stiffly bowed and exited the room. Surly that I was interrupted during my practice session, I took more time than was necessary to change out of my white leotard and tights and into a more stately costume.

After a while living in the palace, I was beginning to become paranoid; just as soon as I would have some harmless fun or diversion, something would eventually come up to vie for my attention. I hardly would start a book or become involved on the high wire when one of the Prime Minister's drones come stalking in informing me of some item or issue of immediate importance. Recently I have noticed I've increasingly avoided becoming 'idle' (to Palace standards) simply to keep them from bothering me during the day. It's so much easier to invent 'urgent matters of state' that for them to be pressed uninvited onto you.

I placed my favorite mask on my face, a light blue papier-mâché that only covered my eyes. Even now I couldn't get used to wearing a mask all the time except for sleeping and bathing. It was usually uncomfortable, and I always associated it with business, like it smothered my personality. I tried to avoid them as often as I could. Eventually the servants and other regular palace people overcame the initial shock and scandal of their Queen, boldly maskless, walking around the corridors.

The Library was two levels above the high wire room. I took my time to reach my destination with the tightly bundled paper securely in my hand. I learned by experience that it does not do to have classified reports flying off unfettered, especially when the palace is hosting an ambassador from the sphinx population.

Wincing at the memory, I knew I was lucky that those types of incidents were few and far between. Despite the fact that my citizens were dream people, they are pretty reasonable. Regardless, the politics of the Mirror World were as complicated as one could imagine. Every once in a while, I would find that dream logic could become the rule rather than the exception. It took a while for me to catch on when it came to things like Dark Lands' foreign policy and washing machine property rights and all that, but two years were more than enough to get one's feet wet. I laughed at myself sometimes when I remembered how much I lamented choosing to become monarch rather than being in the family circus. I never missed it much when I figured out that running a city is much like running a circus

Truly, though, the biggest problems that really popped up were regarding the sphinxes. They were like the mafia of the Mirror World, scrabbling for power and paper whenever instability of authority threatened the City of Light. After things got settled and rebuilt and all, they calmed down a bit and refrained (for the most part) from terrorizing innocent townsfolk. It was the occasional book massacre that became a liability with these creatures. And every once in a while the Library would call on me in terrible distress as the cats infiltrated the (usually) highly advanced security system, and it was my job to draw them out before things got _really_ nasty.

I reached the staircase, lifting my toga-like dress off of the ground to climb without tripping. The staircase was crystalline and as polished as marble, much like the rest of the palace. From the setting sun shining through the western window, the stairs adopted a soft orange tint as the light was absorbed through the glass-like stone. I never cared to ask what exactly the palace was made of, but the architects' close connections with the spider-women of the Diamond Caves gave me some suspicions.

"Prime Minister?" I said, entering the Library quietly. In his old age, the Prime Minister did not care to be bothered by noisy entrances.

"Ah, Hermia! Do you have the list?" his voice drifted back to me from behind a tall bookcase.

"Yes, I finished it this morning," I told him, heading over to G3-Creation Non Fiction.

"Wonderful!" he said, coming into sight. He took the papers from my hand, untying and unrolling them. "Oh, there are a few chefs I hired for the banquet waiting in the kitchens. They want you to pick the main courses."

"I'll check up on that, then," I told him, backing out towards the exit, hoping to get out before…I heard an expected sigh behind me. Bollocks.

"Again, your Majesty?" he asked. I winced.

"It doesn't hurt to ask," I said, turning around and trying to keep a straight face.

"He's always found one excuse or another to not come visit," the Prime Minister said, obviously uncomfortable trotting on such a delicate subject. I simply shrugged, fidgeting under his scrupulous observations.

"He'll come when he wants to," I muttered. I averted my eyes to escape the slight pity in the Prime Minister's.

"Two birthday invitations? Two annual masquerade balls? Four bi-annual fundraisers?" he pointed out. I flinched at every one.

"He'll come when he wants to," I repeated, this time a note of dejection entered my tone. The Prime Minister sighed, wringing his hands in a familiar gesture showing his anxiety. Wishing to lighten the mood, he decided to change the subject.

"Well, young Master Pennyweather has already expressed interest in attending the ball that evening," I heard him say lightly. I stifled a mirthless laugh. I'm sure that over-inflated, pompous ass_ would_ express interest for two minutes of fame to dance with the Queen of Light.

"Excellent. Another man deluded to believe that I care about how many washing-machines he owns," I replied dryly. "Oh, don't tell me…Mr. Pennyweather drives _dryers_ now." That pulled a smile from his lips.

"Would you like me to look into it, my lady?"

I shook my head. "No. I can think of other forms of transportation that peak my interest."

_Besides, _I thought. _I think I've had enough _important men_ in my life. _

I then headed back out of the Library, eager to get out before the conversation reverted back to its original tone.

_Has it really been two years?_ I wondered to myself as I took the stairs down towards the kitchens.

Feels like ten.

At first I was angry when all I got from Valentine were a few short, sporadic letters. No visits, no clues of where he was at, and no bloody invitations. And I kept telling myself why the hell I was sending him mine. Of course, eventually I go fed up with it and—according to my more _severe_ controlling tendencies—hunted him down using a bit of my new resources. Through my informants, I found out that he was doing business in the entertainment districts across the land, trying to make something of himself as a juggler. He didn't have a partner, like he suggested he might do the night he left, but was strictly a loner when it came to those types of things.

I felt horribly frustrated with myself on keeping up this…tracking. It was immoral, unethical, and embarrassing to me. I had allowed my feelings for Valentine, as confusing and messed up as they were, to run away with me. Eventually, I pulled myself together enough to reign in the last of my dignity to stop it. But that tight, painful ball remained lodged in my stomach. I could never truly ignore it.

What _really_ got me riled up, however, was what happened a couple months ago.

Curiosity killed the cat and all.

I got all wound up one day and decided to go out and find Valentine by myself. Sending out some well-trained eyes and ears, it didn't take long for me to find out Valentine's next performance. It was a long way away, out on the outskirts of the Dark Lands. Even with the Dark Queen's diplomatic relations with my city, I didn't want her to think that I was sending out spies to her palace. So I went out in a disguise and rooted out Valentine myself. I had in mind a very well-versed, intelligent outburst to place squarely on his shoulders, and I was determined to see to it that Valentine would at least talk to me. It was a childish thing to do, but I was all but past reasonable when it came to a certain masked juggler. This cold shoulder thing was grating on my nerves. But I had to admit it wasn't the sole driving force of my actions.

The truth was…I missed him. Terribly.

The tight ball in my stomach had been slowly driving me insane, and I finally reached the point where I was finally ready to admit the cause. I had finally reached the point where I was ready to do just about anything to finally talk to the infuriating bastard again. And that is where it led me.

Straight to Blackbug Circle.

It wasn't all that hard to find, really. It was notorious for the hard-to-please crowd and unsavory bars. All I had to do was scrounge up some old clothes (I got them to see my father one last time before my mother destroyed the Mirrormask) and some second-hand mask and I was able to sneak out of the White Palace with considerable ease.

With a few bribes and washing machine rides, I was able to make it into the Dark Lands without so much but a bump in the rode (a very _painful_ bump, though) and into Blackbug Circle. There was already a sizeable crowd at the town's center. My heart had clenched in on itself when I heard a familiar Irish accent pierce through the air with all the boldness of any ring master. I had pushed through the crowd to catch a glimpse of him. He was the same as ever; ratty robe, childish mask, lopsided smirk, and distinctly brassy persona. It came as a strange shock to my system to see him again, in person. All the terse, cutting words I had stored in my head dissipated like smoke. Part of me was so grateful that I had this mask to hide my face, because the sane part of me realized that I would have mentally turned into a pile of ash if he recognized me and came over to talk. Another part of me thought that this ironic turn of events was hysterically funny. It was this part that had made me sigh, and turn away from Valentine and the new life he made for himself.

At least he had looked happy, as much as I hated to admit it.

_Toughen up. It's not like your life fell to pieces when he left. Why beat yourself up over a frivolous heartache?_ This reassurance from the back of my head wasn't all that helpful. One, because it was simply contradictory to my melancholic state, and two, it sounded too much like Laverna for comfort.

It was in this sullen state that I arrived in the bustling kitchens. Some very important-looking people came sauntering up to me, demanding my attention with questions about hors d' oeuvres and sautéed duck. I gritted my teeth and forced a civil expression onto my face before answering their questions.

There's really is no end when preparing for a ball. You are either setting things up, controlling the crowd, or tearing things down to get ready to set things back up again in a few months, albeit differently.

I rubbed my temples before answering another urgent question. _Nothing _was allowed to be repeated when it came to Mirror World parties. For this ridiculous planning of the Lover's Holiday, I tried to suggest reusing the beautiful pink crystal statue of a rose that we had for the Flower Festival the previous spring. Needless to say, a good half of the royal organizers nearly had hemorrhages. Instead it was donated to charity, and in its place would be a lovely _red _crystal rose. I kept certain comments to myself.

Eventually the plannings and choosings and appetizers steadily ceased their demands for attention for the day, and I dropped the imperial veneer to trudge back to my bedchambers. A long, hot, bath was in order.

I hoped the scorching water would sooth my anxiety and frustration, but it only cleared my head of the frivolities of the upcoming festivities and made way for my more suppressed, deeper thoughts. The nostalgia towards my parents and the circus often tightened my chest with longing. I resigned myself long ago that I would eventually do without them, but the wounds were still raw as I recalled my parents' faces and the old carnies' routines.

As I submerged my head, the shock of hot water to my face helped sweep these depressed feelings away for a moment. Then another face floated to the forefront of my mind. Annoyed and frustrated, I broke back to the surface, unwilling to allow those emotions to catch me by surprise again.

My chamber maids helped me dress into a sleeping gown. I missed my old t-shirt and pajama pants, but now I had to be more _dignified_ when it came to clothing, even clothing that I'd be sleeping in. It was times like these I wistfully wished that _someone_ here would have the disposition to humor me. Everyone was just so stuffy and…boring.

It was times like these that I wished Valentine were here to lighten things up a bit.

Poking that thought back into submission, I slipped into the small, yet comfortable bed that all the queens before me had slept. The suns that usually dazzled across the ceiling dimmed into mere stars for the night.

"Would you care for a small snack before you retire, your Majesty?" one of the maids asked me delicately. I nodded, and she scampered off to the kitchens. The other two stepped out quietly once they were sure that I needed nothing else. I exhaled slowly, absorbing the fact that I was finally alone. Exhausted, of course, so I wouldn't enjoy that luxury for long because sleep was not far off, but it was a calming feeling nonetheless.

The maid entered with a tray. A gold kettle with what I supposed was hot milk or something of the sort sat in the midst of a matching teacup and a plate of biscuits. In the next breath, the smell of baked sweets hit my senses.

"Is something wrong, your Majesty?" the maid asked, concerned. I struggled to construct a passive expression, while at the same time trying to restart my breathing.

"F-fine," I managed with a false smile. "Erm, what kind of biscuits are those?" _Damn fool question. You know exactly what…_

"Cinnamon and…um…butterscotch, my lady," she told me. I took a breath through my mouth.

"Be a dear and set them on the table, will you?" I said, keeping my tone light. She did so.

"Is there anything else you'll need, your Highness?" she asked.

"No, that'll be all, thank you," I said. Internally, I wondered why servants insisted on lingering in the room when you least want people around. The maid bowed and left me.

_Butterscotch,_ I thought to myself with disgust, picking one up like I was picking up a dead rat by the tail. _It had to be bloody _butterscotch.

Tossing the offending thing across the room with a kind of vehemence that startled me, I sunk into the thick mattress, a lump forming in my throat. The tight knot in my stomach constricted like a snake around my intestines.

Why can't I just forget about him? Valentine owed me nothing, and he had no claim on me, either.

Regardless of this logic, he continued to seep through the corners of my mind, making me miss his stupid, warm robe, his silly gestures, his enthusiastic smile…

The way he smelled like butterscotch.

_Stop it, Hermia, _I groaned. It was easier to be angry at Valentine than to think about the things I _liked _about him. I could bring up to myself how he broke my trust, how he constantly asserted his cockiness in the most annoying way, how he chose Laverna over me, how he never came back when he said he _would_.

"Stupid, juggling _git_," I muttered into my pillow. Twenty-two and only _now_ do I choose to toss and turn in my bed, stressing over someone of the male sex.

Not that I took Valentine as the steady sort, really. Palace life would not suit him; that much was evident in his personality. But he could give a girl a warning, you know. Especially after living all those weeks in_ his_ Tower, eating in _his _scullery, listening to_ his_ jokes day after day…you can't blame me for being a little shocked when he told me he was leaving in five minutes.

I considered those weeks in Tower, being my last as unofficial royalty—without all the bloody protocol—as a discernable highlight of my time in the Mirror World. When I wasn't with Mum rebuilding the city or at official meetings and such, Valentine would take me to the unblemished parts of town and set up a miniature performance (him juggling and me on a high wire), or we would fly over the Mirror World in Tower and he would tell me about all the amazing (mostly fictional) adventures he had during his life.

To tell the truth, before Valentine told me he was flying off in Tower, the thought of him leaving never even crossed my mind. It was like Val blundered into my life and it turned out he was stuck there. He seemed like a permanent fixture in my world. Like an oven, or something.

I yawned, the need for sleep overpowering the strange sadness weighing on my chest. My arms wrapped themselves around my torso, trying to alleviate the painful twinge from the weight as I thought about him. I was too tired to force my thoughts anywhere at this point. So I drifted, resigning myself to the fact that Valentine was probably still "too busy" to accept my invitation, no matter how much I wished otherwise.

And I woke up the next morning to find myself curled up on my side, my head tilted towards the comforting scent of butterscotch.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

'_You are planning to set up another performance there for _what_ reason?'_

"…Because. Anyway, in a week, so we should probably start heading that way in a couple of days. I'm determined to make _someone_ cheer for me. Just once. A teeny, tiny little clap. A whistle. A laugh. I'll even settle for a well-placed gasp. Then I'm done, I promise."

'_And when was the last time I took the word of Valentine seriously?'_

I threw my hands up in defeat, continuing to skulk out the door in the opposite direction of _her_ voice.

After the whole Blackbug Circle comeback a few months ago (or setback; however you want to look at it) Tower has been grating on my nerves about retiring from the juggling circuit and getting a _real_ job, especially if I keep up the appetite I've been cultivating recently. Unfortunately, seeing as I lived in Tower, she had free reign to bother me in the most inconvenient of times, like when I'm eating. Or sleeping. _That_ gets extremely tiring, in more ways than one.

We had landed on the outskirts of the borderlands, by a small, strange town called Blue. I was here only once before, as a very young child. Not the best memories resurface around here. Moving about the town, I recalled another reason why I didn't really like Blue. The residents here were quite…strange. They cared little about the goings-on around them, like they were all partially blind. They also spoke with these whispery, creepy voices that made the little hairs on your body stand on end.

But the most unnerving characteristic of the Blue people was their universal obsession of this disturbing, other-worldly, nonsensical kind of music. Singing about people named Jude and Prudence and diamond people in the sky and walruses and fields of red fruit…

It was just _weird._

"Enjoy Blue," a man on the nearly empty main street told me with an eerily bright smile on his face as he handed me a pamphlet of some sort.

Oh yeah, they were also fanatics. Something about future fruit. I should probably listen more closely to their music. Maybe there was some method to their madness.

_On the other hand,_ I thought as tried not to make eye contact with another Blue person, _maybe I should just grab the groceries and high-tail it back to Tower. _

I hurried to the store, which was nearly as vacant as the outside, other than the occasional slack-jawed wanderer through the aisles. I kept my head down, quietly grateful for the Blue peoples' tendency of keeping their heads in the clouds. I was obviously an outsider.

Grabbing a few bags of crisps and a little box of cakes, I headed over to the check-out counter. The cashier gave me a dreamy smile before taking care of my purchases. Needless to say, I counted my change afterwards.

I was nearly at the city limits when a thin, trembling young woman grabbed me by the arm, a look of exultation on her masked face. I tried to jerk away, but her grip was stronger than I expected. I noticed a small, pale fruit with a piece bitten away was in the hand that wasn't restraining me.

"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm in a bit of a hurry," I said, forcing a smile to cover up the alarm on my face.

"You should be. She's waiting for you," the woman giggled in that breathy voice that gave me chills.

"Exactly. Don't want her to fly off without me," I replied, chuckling nervously, wondering how she knew about Tower in the first place.

"You've been gone for too long, and you keep ignoring her," she chided darkly, her mirth fading into an intense seriousness. I froze when I caught the gravity of her words. "The future fruit showed me that you two are irreversibly intertwined, and that _this_—" She fluttered her hand at me. "—is only going to cause the both of you more pain than necessary."

The crazy woman finally released me, but I was too stunned to move. "Now hurry!" She waved her hands at me again, this time in a 'shooing' motion. "No more dawdling! There isn't much time! Go!"

Shaken out of my shocked state, I staggered out of Blue, more confused and wary about the people who inhabited the town now than ever.

'_Dawdling again, Val? All you were supposed to get were some snack foods,'_ Tower badgered the moment I stepped inside the door. _'Don't tell me you spent more on food. We have at least three more pizzas in the freezer.' _Going back on the psychic woman's advice, I ignored Tower's comments. Instead, I tuned her out like I always did and went to one of the sculleries to shove the chips and cakes into a cupboard. Tower was still talking in the background, and I grunted at appropriate moments so she didn't seem to notice. I headed up to the navigation room, eager to lounge in an armchair and do nothing as Tower flew us to a nice little grassy spot in the Neutral Lands.

Tower's annoying voice resounded in my ear as I lowered myself onto my favorite chair.

"I'm so sorry, Tower. I didn't catch that," I droned with false enthusiasm as I slumped into the cushions. A grating humph echoed through the walls.

'_I _said_,'_ Tower repeated with heavy exasperation, '_that you got another invitation to a festival ball from Hermia. But I don't suppose you're interested. You passed off all the others anyway.' _

I cringed, but stayed silent. I hated when she does this. The _both _of them.

'_I gathered as much.' _She sighed._ 'I'll go write a letter for you. Valentine, I don't know what is going on with you. Staying gone for so long, and you keep ignoring her—'_

Whoa. Stop the presses. Hold the phone. _What did she say? _

'_You are causing yourself more pain than necessary by staying away from her. Maybe you should stop being a coward of your own feelings and just—'_

"When is the festival?" I demanded, stumbling onto my feet.

'_What does it matter to you? You never want to go to these things,' _Tower mocked.

"Shut _up_, Tower, and answer the bloody question!"

'_Goodness. We are feeling a bit bossy today…Here.' _Something came zooming up behind me and hit me in the back of the head. I whipped around. It was the letter; Tower sent it out of the fireplace at an annoying speed. I stifling my comments and picked up the offending thin, opening it.

_**Mr. Valentine,**_

_**You are cordially invited to attend the royal celebration for the Holiday of Lovers—**_

_Holiday of Lovers? _I nearly dropped the bloody thing—

_**The ball will be held at the White Palace a week before the Spring Equinox, at exactly seven-o-clock in the evening. **_

_**Please arrive promptly with this invitation in hand and in the appropriate formal attire. **_

_**A complimentary rose for Her Majesty, the Gracious White Queen Hermia, is encouraged.**_

"Tower, how many weeks til the spring equinox?" I asked carefully.

'_The spring equinox?'_ she repeated._ 'Let's see…the, ah, spring equinox is a week from today. Yes, that's about right.'_

"WHAT?! It's _today_?!" I exclaimed, dropping the letter. "Tower, quick, what time is it?"

'_Why do you need—?'_

"No questions! Just give me the time, Tower!" I snapped, rushing out of the room. I raced down the stairs to my closet.

'_It's six twenty-five in the evening,' _she answered, sounding startled as I ripped through the rows upon rows of purple shirts and black slacks with a gusto that was accelerated when I heard the time. Finally I reached the back where I kept all my hats, and a few fancier articles of clothing. I fluttered my hands in exasperation at the limited choices I had.

"I have nothing to bloody _wear_ for a stupid _ball!_" I groaned, shuffling through the hangers and boxes. "I shouldn't go. I have no reason to go. This is ridiculous, why am I listening to the advice of some barking mad Blue person?"

'_You sound like a prepubescent girl,' _Tower commented dryly. _'And if your acute agitation is any indication, you _do _have some sort of reason.'_

"What the hell am I going to say to her? An 'oops, my mistake, it won't happen again'? I don't think that'll go over too well."

'_Valentine!' _Tower barked. I stopped sorting through clothes with a sigh.

"I'm listening," I muttered.

'_I have two very easy solutions to your two dilemmas. And since it looks like you don't have much time, I think you should just follow my directions without your excuses.' _Satisfied that I didn't throw out another comment, she continued. _'Firstly, since it's obviously for the Holiday of Lovers, wear that red outfit of yours—'_

"Ugh, that's so tacky."

'_Shush. Just do it. Secondly, you need to apologize. Actually apologize, not that cowardly sidestepping bollocks you do.'_

"Tower, I am _not _going to do that," I said, frowning. "I'll…I'll express my…_regret _that I haven't been able to see her, but I am _not _going to ap-ap…you know, do_ that_ whole thing. It's not going to make everything I've done un-happen." Tower sighed.

'_Alright. Fine. Do what you want. Just _try_ to show a little gentlemanly behavior when you get there.' _

"Why, Tower! When have I ever done otherwise?" I said with false indignation.

'_Just get dressed, Val. When did that ball start?' _At that reminder, I quickly grabbed the red tunic and vest. On a second thought, I went back and grabbed one of my hats.

We took off not long after, with a lot of huffing from Tower and a lot of yelling from me. We hardly had twenty minutes to get there, and we were halfway across the border lands. Tower didn't appreciate my commentary as she gradually picked up speed, and seemed to catch some turbulence every moment I was off-balance.

All in all, it wasn't a pleasant flight. On top of Tower's irritatingly slow progress, I was also extremely nervous. Outrageously nervous. Astoundingly nervous. Run-away-and-never-come-back nervous. All because I was seeing Hermia again for the first time in two years and all that was driving me to go was some insane, bottled up desire to see exactly how angry she was with me. On one hand, she could be furious that I never lived up to my promise and believed I broke her trust _again_. On the other hand, she could have forgotten about that promise and the letter was simply a formality and it turned out that she didn't care whether I came back or not.

Strangely, I wasn't sure which was worse.

"Are we nearly there?" I asked again, pacing in the navigation room and occasionally glancing anxiously at the grandfather clock by the fireplace. Tower growled.

'_Valentine, if you ask me that one more time, I'm bloody turning around,'_ she snapped. I could tell she was serious, so I kept my mouth shut, and tried to content myself with looking out the window. It was already five after and the blasted City of Light was _still_ nowhere in sight.

"We're late," I stated accusingly at Tower under my breath. She just huffed in response.

I sighed loudly and went back to the armchair, throwing myself on it, a sour expression on my masked face. I closed my eyes in mental exhaustion. Maybe if I could forget the fact I'm going to see Hermia, we'd be there sooner…

I was jerked out of my attempt to fantasize a nice, clean, Hermia-less beach when Tower coughed.

'_Valentine?'_

"What?" I asked gruffly.

'_We're…um…here.'_

I shoved myself out of the chair in an unbalanced haste toward the window, feeling an odd sensation in my chest, like I could hardly breathe.

"Bugger," was all I could say as I saw our descent into the cobbled roads converging toward the White Palace.

I stumbled my way downstairs, passing innumerable mirrors to make sure the damned hat was on right and the vest was unwrinkled. But even as I reached the door, I froze, my breaths coming out in shallow heaves.

'_Well what are you waiting for, Val?'_ Tower asked. _'You're already late as it is.' _

I couldn't answer. I just tried to move my hand to open the bloody door. I heard a sigh, and the door opened by itself.

"Thanks," I muttered weakly, taking the few steps down onto the street.

'_Go and get the girl, loverboy,'_ Tower said, trying to sound encouraging. My throat only closed up as I headed mechanically towards the palace, merging with a few other late-comers towards the palace gates.

"Invitation?" the doorman asked dully, hand outstretched.

I fumbled inside my vest pockets for a moment, and then eventually found it in my back pant pocket.

"Happy Lover's Day," the man muttered, waving me in. I took a breath and headed up the steps to the palace, following the bright pink lanterns lining the way towards the ballroom. I quickly adjusted my broad-rimmed hat to shade my face. I didn't want Hermia to see me just yet.

I meandered down the hallway, trying to figure out a way to make an inconspicuous entrance. I suppose I could hide in the middle of stragglers and lurk in the corners until I build up the courage to confront her. Or I could find the back door, through the kitchens or something. But then there was the off-chance I wouldn't be allowed back there. Of course, I could slip through with relative ease. It was the possibility of being kicked out—

"Excuse me, sir."

I noticed that I had been staring at a map of the White City for a good five minutes, debating with myself. I turned to find an official-looking man standing stiffly beside me.

"Sir, the festivities have already started. I suggest you hurry along to the ballroom rather than miss the entertainment."

I forced a smile on my face. "Of course," I told him.

"Do you need assistance in finding the ballroom?" he asked.

"Er, I think I'll be fine, thanks," I said, slightly irritated that I was being forced to the place that I feared most at the moment. Making my way towards the sound of music and talking and laughing, I caught sight of a small group of people also making headway in the same direction. I hurried to converge with them, not wishing to enter by myself, just in case she bothered to look my way.

The first thing I encountered was a gigantic red rose, constructed of glass or crystal, standing directly in the center of the entryway. A bit ostentatious for my taste…well, with the exception of headwear. This thought reminded me of the hat upon my own head, and I tilted the brim down, silently hoping it would hide my mask. Luckily, many others had hats every bit as, or even more grandiose than, mine.

The ballroom was crowded with an explosion of color. The women of the City of Light loved to flash their latest finery, nearly blinding anyone within a five-foot radius. I recognized a couple masks, but no one cared to pay much attention to me. There was a concerto orchestra on the small stage on the opposite side of the room, and people were already dancing and forming groups to gossip.

Okay. First order of business; find Hermia, and avoid her.

For now, anyway. I scanned the ballroom, trying to find a familiarly tall, thin, brunette figure in the masses surrounding me. It took a minute or so, but I couldn't miss the fact that the Queen of Light usually had the largest audience.

Hermia looked tired. Not many people could catch the slight sagging of her shoulders, or the tightness in her smile, but she obviously had a wearing patience for the people talking with her. She was wearing a dark burgundy gown and matching satin mask, a gold circlet in her hair. She seemed a little different, too. Something in the way she carried herself. More…regal, I guess. It makes sense. Overall, however, two years hadn't changed her much. She was still tall and moderately lean, and even with a good twenty feet separating us, I could see her eyes were as piercing as ever, even when they weren't fixed on me.

Heat rose in my stomach when I realized I had frozen in the middle of the room. I kept Hermia in my sights, but I walked over to a table to get a good, hard drink.

What the hell was I doing here? I didn't belong in this world, full of flashy dresses hiding rules and regulations and customs. Blech. No thanks. Not the kind of atmosphere for a Valentine. I like showing off some wealth now and again, but the strings attached to it lessens its attraction.

I tried some of this red cocktail thing called 'sangria', but it was too weak for my nerves. Scanning the waiters waltzing by with trays, I grabbed something blue in a small glass off of one tray and downed it. It burned down my throat, so I guessed it was the right kind of liquid courage I would need tonight. I kept myself from taking another, though. I winced at the thought of being wasted while trying to win over Hermia's favor again.

My heart still thumped uncomfortably in my throat as I kept a sharp eye on Hermia, maneuvering out of sight when needed. I wasn't ready to face her yet. A few things had to be kinked out before I could talk to her.

Alright, Valentine. You need to figure out when you're going to pull her aside and _exactly _what you are going to tell her. She's preoccupied with those stuffy old nits right now, but she'll find some excuse or another to get away from them. Now, what the bloody hell to _say_? Am I supposed to look happy to see her? Or guilty that I hadn't been here sooner? Probably should keep it more light-hearted. Yeah. That'll help my case. She'll know I missed her, and it'll soften her up and everything will be back to normal between us. Valentine, you _are_ brilliant! Now…to wait for her to get away from those dodgy politicians. You can intercept her then and take her by surprise! Perfect.

I slowly made my way closer to Hermia, careful to keep my head down. She was still chatting politely with the self-important men, but I could see her eyes wandering toward the banquet table. I positioned myself strategically between Hermia and the escape of her choice, my throat feeling excruciatingly dry. I snatched a glass of what I _thought _was water from another tray, but immediately spit out the liquor in fear that I would tip the precarious balance of nerves I was _trying_ to control.

Though alcohol, at the moment, was a tempting mistress; persuading me to drown out said nerves.

I attempted to look as if I was nonchalantly listening to the band. My foot-tapping was probably garishly off-beat, but I was preoccupied with Hermia's obvious farewells to the politicians. She curtsied and the look of relief on her face was blatant as she headed my direction, albeit a few feet off to my left. My heart leapt into my throat. I wasn't ready to talk to her. Not just that, I'm pretty sure I was _incapable_ of speech in the immediate future.

I took a tentative step to catch her before she brushed by without noticing me—and was foiled by a _very_ fancy man with an unappealing smirk. Said man crossed directly between Hermia and me, catching her by the arm in a much too familiar way. I quickly spun on my heel and made a hasty retreat a few yards off, cursing violently under my breath. I hid behind a small fern just close enough for me to hear and see the two of them.

"My dear Majesty, you look ravishing tonight," the man said with an elegance that made me want to gag. "I was hoping your Grace would _grace_ me with a dance?"

That did it. I gagged.

"Call me Hermia, please, Master Pennyweather," Hermia replied with a tight smile. "I really try to encourage more familiar acquaintances to drop some formalities in more informal settings, you know?"

"Of course," Penny-wotzits replied, looking a bit smugger then he should. "Would you then, Hermia, give me the honor of dancing with you?" Hermia just smiled politely and extended her hand toward him. The bloke took it in his and led her to the dancing couples in front of the stage where the band just stroke up a bubbly waltz.

Frowning, I followed them, a voice in the back of my head commenting wryly on my embarrassingly deliberate eavesdropping. I ignored it, keeping the brim of my hat tilted to shade most of my face.

I watched as the Penny fellow placed his hand boldly on her waist and took her right hand in his left, and began twirling her around. I could make out their lips moving in conversation as they danced. A peculiar sort of heat began to build in the back of my throat when he bent by her ear to whisper something, and then the tell-tale motion of laughter from Hermia's jerking shoulders.

It may have been either a coincidence or a work of fate. But all I could process was that the moment I cleared through enough people to get a better view of the dancing couple, I caught the bastard in the act of pulling Hermia _much_ closer than deemed appropriate, by even the most obliging of etiquette.

And by me.

Really, most people shouldn't think much of it, seeing as other men were also stepping in to dance with the women, but part of me was terrified that _now _was the time I chose to catch up with Hermia. In contrast, the other part was aware of the burning jealousy in my throat propelling me towards the object of said jealousy.

I took her empty hand the moment the Penny boy sent her into a graceful twirl; it was solely out of impulse. But everything seemed to slow down and materialize as Hermia's normally uncompromising face gave away into, first, confusion, and then pure shock.

"Excuse me," I heard myself telling her previous dance partner brusquely, "but I don't suppose you would mind me cutting in?"

"Actually—"

Hermia was shaken out of her bafflement and tore her eyes away from me to him.

"Pennyweather, I hope you won't mind if I danced with this old friend of mine," she said, a hint of weakness behind her usually certain voice. "We have a few things to…discuss."

He briefly turned his head to look at me with nothing short of contempt, but bowed away, muttering an, "Of course, Hermia". I tried to keep from sneering at him as he backed away, looking as if I had force-fed him ten lemons. But instead I turned my focus back onto Hermia, expecting the shock I saw when she first recognized me, perhaps demanding, with wide-eyed astonishment, where the hell I had come from.

So, naturally, I was dumbfounded when I saw the look of seething anger on Hermia's face. Clearing my throat uncomfortably, I resumed the pace of dancing. She didn't say anything, she didn't look at me; she just stiffly allowed me to guide her through the steps.

"No, 'thanks Val from steering me away from that insufferable cad?'" I joked half-heartedly, feeling less confident about my whole scheme by the second. Hermia finally looked at me, but with a scowl on her face.

"That was rude," she stated.

"But true?" I wheedled, hoping this whole ordeal wasn't a complete loss. She didn't answer, so I took it as a yes. "Oh, c'mon, Hermia. Hermia? Ugh, okay, let me start over. Hello, Hermia! It's great to be seeing you again! Would you like to dance?" She simply stared at me, her eyes flashing with fury.

"I don't think that works when you're already dancing with me," she replied tartly.

"Do you want me to stop and ask properly with all the bowing and nonsense?" I asked, keeping my voice even.

"It doesn't matter now," she said. Her expression changed, like the fury behind her eyes decided to break free. "What _does_ matter, though, is why the _hell _you have been ignoring me for two bloody years."

"I have not been ignoring you!" I protested. "I've been writing you letters and all. I've been busy, I've told you this." Hermia just rolled her eyes. It was times like these that I truly despised female intuition.

"For two years, Val?" she spat through her teeth.

"I'm pretty sure _you _were busy too, with all your blasted royal matters and meetings," I rebuked. "I remembered the whole gist of this palace thing. I was shoved off to the side when more _important_ people presented themselves."

"You would have been welcomed here anytime," she said dully.

"Oh, of course. Then I would have to wait to be written into your_ schedule_, I suppose? Very convenient for you, perhaps, but for _me_—"

"There you go again!" Hermia exclaimed, her voice raising an octave. "Thinking only of _yourself_ and what works for _you._"

"It's not like you ever thought of coming to visit _me_," I said, not liking the feel of the brunt of her insult. She didn't reply to that, but just chose to determinedly fix her irritated gaze over my shoulder.

We continued to dance in rigid silence, both of us fuming, neither looking at the other.

As the music faded into another song, I noticed a softening of Hermia's expression out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes were downcast, in a sort of weary sadness. Concern breaking through my aggravation, I slowed to a stop and sighed.

"Why don't we talk out on the balcony?" I suggested quietly, taking my hand from her waist and her hand. Hermia pulled her reserve together and looked up again at me, her eyes revealing a carefully controlled emotion.

"The hallway off of the kitchens will be better," she replied, turning abruptly towards the exit. I followed her. The two of us fled unnoticed—luckily—from the ballroom and crossed into one of the adjoining hallways. We passed the kitchens on the way. There was a lot of yelling and clashing followed by the blurred forms of waiters and waitresses rushing to and from the ballroom. Again, no one took notice as we entered a quieter, empty corridor filled with small chandeliers and official-looking paintings.

Hermia stopped under a painting of a uniformed man with a large mustache, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed in intense musing as she refused to look at me. I took a similar stance across from her.

A sort of guilty awkwardness came over me, like I was a child in trouble for running away and coming home only once my mother had gotten thoroughly worried. I found myself incapable of speech once again. I waited for Hermia to speak first, nervously picking at the black tunic under my vest.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, running her hand over her face. She looked up at me, a tight, mirthless smile on her face. "I never meant to get so…so _mad _at you. It's…It's insane! It's like everything is blown all out of proportion when it comes to _you._" She spat the last word out like poison, looking away, her fingers curling into fists. Then she relaxed, almost out of defeat, and chuckled weakly. She looked at me, looking a little sheepish. "I even tracked you down one night, just to…hell, I don't even know what I would accomplish."

"Wait a second…" I started slowly. "You _tracked me down?_ You've been spying on me?"

"It wasn't _spying _exactly…"

"Tracking people down without their knowing is awfully close to spying, Hermia," I told her, feeling apprehensive. When in bloody hell did this happen? What had she seen?

"It was harmless. Really, Valentine. I just…wanted to see what you were up to?" Her excuse sounded suspiciously like she was questioning herself.

"And what was I up to?" I asked coolly. She shifted in discomfort.

"You were at Blackbug Circle, juggling," she said, shrugging, trying to seem nonchalant. "I…guess I didn't know what to say."

"Because you thought I had been making fake excuses not to come back," I accused.

"You promised you would," Hermia shot back. "And you've never been all that secure with follow-throughs, Valentine, so I don't see why you can blame me for making_ that _assumption."

We lapsed into another silence, glaring at each other from the opposite sides of the hallway.

"I can't believe you're still worried about that whole Dark Lands incident," I said in a low voice. "Valentines don't make the same mistake twice."

"Then what do you call selling my mum out…_twice_?" she replied icily.

"Self preservation. Not a mistake," I told her hotly. Then I winced. "At least, that was before _you_ were thrown into the mess, of course."

"So what? So you needed me to survive a hanging," she said cruelly. "What other excuses do you have for your actions, Val? Because I've think I've just about heard them all."

I exhaled loudly, feeling even more aggravated.

"Why can't you just _listen_? You used to be pretty good at that," I snapped. "I was worried about my own life, yeah, but do you know how…_hard_ it was to see you strung up and beaten like a piece of meat, and then turned into a mindless robot? Do you really think that didn't make me feel useless? And do you really think, after all that effort to break that damned spell, and after you saved my cowardly neck, I would just…" I broke off, a knot in my throat. Hermia just stared at me with uncertainty.

Then, a thought came into my head. A painful, necessary thought. I looked down at the ground to keep my eyes from her. "It was my fault all of this came about, anyway." I opened and closed my mouth hesitantly. Hermia kept quiet, obviously curious at what I was trying to say. "This..." I motioned between us. "…animosity."

_Oh, bloody hell. I'm actually going to do _this_? I've never…not in a million…billion…_

"What I mean is…even before all this. You know, when I…after I tricked you and all, misusing your trust in me. I _really _don't like the idea that I…betrayed you."

_I can't believe this. I am actually trying. _

I trailed off, my mouth dry and my hands plucking nervously at my tunic again. "You know I never meant it, and I feel like shite for doing that to you, and your mum as well…" Christ, this was hard. _Why_ was it so hard? I should just bypass it like I did with Helena. _She_ got the gist of my foggy ap-apo-apola-apology.

"Ugh. It's so _awkward_," I exclaimed, rubbing my neck in embarrassment

And Hermia wasn't helping much. She just stared at me expectantly, oblivious to the warring going on in my head.

_Dammit. You got this far. Just spit it out. _

"Hermia…"

I took a hesitant step forward, hoping it came off as imploring.

"I'm…"

"You're…?" she encouraged gently, her eyes ravaged with curiosity.

"Oh, the hell with it. I'm _sorry_," I blurted, throwing my hands into the air. "I'm sorry for selling out your mum, I'm sorry for leaving you for Shadow bait, I'm sorry for being an ass and a coward, I'm sorry for not accepting all those _damned_ invitations, and I'm sorry for dropping in on you like a sphinx in a library, thinking that everything would go back to normal between us."

I didn't know what to expect after apologizing to her. It was different from yelling desperately to Tower all those years ago, because I was pressured out of self-preservation rather than true guilt. I had thought…_maybe_ I would feel a little better after apologizing to Hermia, that I would be rewarded by my actions, like I had been with Tower.

But it was cruelly the opposite; I felt the guilt grow ten-fold, and it suffocated me. Every pain I had inflicted on her was now squeezing the life out of my chest, and I didn't know how the hell to get rid of it.

And Hermia _still _wasn't saying a bloody _thing_.

"So much for 'Valentines_ never_ apologize'," I mocked hoarsely, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Val," Hermia said tersely.

I looked up. She was walking over to me, a small, wry smile. She took my shoulders, and her eyes pierced into me like daggers.

"I accept your apology. So…stop moping."

When she released me, it was like the weight that was constricting my chest suddenly unraveled and fell away. There was lightness there now that I had never experienced before. I couldn't help but grin sheepishly back at her.

"That wasn't so hard," I said, my courage returning. "You know; that whole _apologizing_ business." Hermia rolled her eyes again.

"Not very _Valentine_, though, is it?" she mocked, smirking. "What _ever_ shall you do without your identity to excuse yourself with?" I sighed with little gusto.

"You're right. You've corrupted my deeply engrained values," I said woefully, slinging an arm across her shoulders in refreshing camaraderie as we unconsciously began walking back toward the ballroom.

And she had. I had become a singular 'Valentine' now. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. Hermia, in one fell swoop into my life, had erased my instinctive cowardice, my utter revulsion to apologies, and my selfish perspectives.

Well, mostly anyway. And there was still that one word. Just thinking of it sent shivers of fear up my spine. And to_ think_ Tower had thought I would tell Hermia that I l-lo-lo-damn, I couldn't even say it in my _head_.

I looked over at Hermia, a queer ache in my heart at the relief I felt when she smiled back at me, chatting about her adventures while I had been gone. I felt conflicted. I knew what I felt for Hermia. I _knew_ it; I just couldn't _say_ it outright. It was…it was just too terrifying a concept. It was foreign, alien…dangerous.

It felt like something scolding hot, and if I said it, nothing would be the same. If I wrote the word on a piece of paper, it would take flight and never come back.

But I had to know…if she felt the same?

"…I swear I thought he was going to bite my head off. It was terrifying," Hermia exclaimed as we entered into the ballroom once again. I hummed a sound like interest, but Hermia caught my wandering mind. "You alright, Val?" I took a deep breath. Damn.

"Hermia…can I…_tell _you something?" I asked, pulling her to a stop by the glass rose. My heart was beating in my chest like a piece of paper fighting to be freed.

"Of course," she said, raising her brow inquisitively. I took in another ragged breath.

"Hermia…you know…I just wanted to say—"

"My Queen! My Queen!"

A person across the room was calling across to us.

"Just a moment," she called back, then turning towards me again, waiting.

"Well, um, I guess I wanted you to know that, well, I…care about you, Hermia," I stuttered, my eyes flicking over to the person heading over to us.

Her face froze in place.

I chickened out. Part of my cursing myself, I smiled weakly. "You know, like I would hate to let the Shadows get you again." Her face relaxed into a smirk.

"That's very sweet, Val," she commented sarcastically. "I'd hate to have the Shadows get you either." The man that was trying to get her attention finally reached us.

"My Lady, the Chief of the Guard would like to speak with you. And Madame LeFere has been looking all over for you."

Hermia grimaced slightly, and then looked over at me apologetically.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I deal with the brownnosers, eh?" she told me, patting me on the arm.

"Sure, sure," I assured her. "I'll be…you know. Around." She smiled at me gratefully before allowing herself to be led off, and I forced a return gesture, even though my heart was sinking into my stomach.

Unfortunately, the brownnosers never gave her a moment of peace, a point of return whereas I could grab her attention. Not saying that I didn't _try_. I got perhaps two words in edgewise between self-important authorities.

Annoyed by the fact that I was being shoved away from Hermia, after two years, by more 'important' people, I headed over to one of the long tables, sitting in an empty chair. I tore my eyes away from Hermia long enough to take another shot glass from a passing waiter's tray.

"Long live the Queen," I murmured into my scotch. At least, I thought it was scotch. It had this odd red tinge. I glared back at Hermia.

Bloody _Lovers' Holiday_. How it mocked me.

"Valentine, was it?" a slightly familiar voice spoke to me. I turned my head to find the blasted Penny-man sitting in the chair beside me. He was smiling in the most disconcerting way. I grunted an affirmation, turning my attentions back to Hermia and the aristocratic posse that clung to her like the drowning. I saw him follow my line of perception.

"Hermia is very popular in this city. Beloved by all her people," he commented lightly. He laughed; a false, ringing kind of thing. "I remember I had to fight off the blasted Bank Commissioner to even get to talk to her. Ah, but she's a lovely woman." The tone in his voice made me tear my gaze away from her and watch him carefully.

"Hard to keep her attentions, though," I said, trying to sound casual. "Being the Queen and all."

"Oh, that's no problem," he laughed again. It grated my nerves. "I have quite the admirable reputation. My stock in the travel business is a plus as well. Surely you have heard of Pennyweather's Washing Machine Services?"

"No," I said shortly, drinking from my glass again.

"Ah, you've been out of town, right? That's probably why. You know, Hermia and I go quite a ways back. I first met her two Lovers' Holidays ago." I kept myself from smirking. _Quite a ways back. _Arrogant fop. "We hit it straight off. I don't know…" He grinned at me, eyebrows cocked over his mask. "Maybe there will be a _different_ kind of festivity in a few months, if you know what I mean."

"I'm…not sure I do," I replied darkly, a dark sort of feeling making my jaw tighten.

"Well…" he drawled. "After a few years, you think another step is in order. Women don't like to be kept waiting. I'm sure you understand."

"I think I do," I said, keeping my voice low, while my knuckles whitened with the grip I had on my glass.

"I know it might sound a bit ambitious, asking for the Queen's hand, but I have some royal blood myself…"

These wheels started turning in me head. Faster and faster, like every word this Penny bloke was saying was burning and speeding things up. I couldn't stand it. The thought of _him _or anyone _like him_ courting Hermia started this deep, primal rumble in my chest. This _anger_…it was like I was actually capable of swinging a fist at the bastard! Me? Cowardly old Valentine? Throwing a punch? It was unreal.

But Hermia probably wouldn't appreciate a brawl breaking out in the middle of her party. A desperate sort of adrenaline started to race through my veins. Then what could I do? Should I just stand by while snotty rich brats came and fawned over Hermia? _Could_ I just stand by when their white, unblemished, and unworked hands pulled her against them?

No. No no no no no no no no _**NO!**_

Not _my _Hermia.

So instead the wheels kept turning in a different direction, a more wild direction. I couldn't think. I could hardly breathe.

But I knew what the bloody hell I had to do.

"What on _earth_ are you doing?" Penny-boy called in indignation as I leapt up from my seat, dashing towards a table by the band. I ignored him as I loped towards the nearly empty banquet tables. With hardly a hesitation, I jumped up onto the table, knocking over a few dishes and centerpieces in the process. A few people cried out in shock and anger.

"Excuse me; may I borrow your glass? And this knife?" I asked, grabbing said items before the woman in front of me could answer. She sputtered a line of expletives. "Thanks."

Straightening, I began clanging the knife against the crystal goblet rapidly. A few heads turned, but Hermia was across the room, and the bloody band was still playing. I sighed in exasperation and leaned over towards the conductor, muttering to him. He nodded and silenced the band.

With relatively less noise to deal with, my stubborn clanging turned a few more heads.

"Excuse me? Hello? Yes, over here," I called out, using the voice I saved for reaching the far corners of crowded streets when I was about to give a performance. I saw Hermia look over towards my voice, and I saw her eyes narrow in suspicion. "Ahem, can everyone hear me? Good, good. Alright. I would like to make a speech, if you don't mind. Hermia? You don't mind, do you?" A hundred heads swiveled in her direction, but she just kept her eyes locked with mine. She shook her head, her expression carefully amused. I cleared my throat. "Wonderful. Because it is about our dear hostess and queen. And royalty _adore _compliments, I've heard. This is a marvelous party, Hermia. My compliments to the chef…and to your distiller as a matter of fact…"

A few laughs from the audience. Hermia grinned slightly. I took another breath.

"I'm fairly sure you have all heard of the…er…_unusual_ circumstances regarding the crowning of our current queen? Yes? I thought so. It_ is_ a fascinating story. I should know. I was there!" I paced back and forth across the long table, illustrating my words as I did. "You see, the first time I met Hermia, she fell from the sky. I know, I know, incredible. But, our queen here is quite unconventional, as you might have found for yourselves." More chuckles this time.

"But I digress. What I'm really doing here, and not just 'doing here' meaning why the hell I'm standing on this table, but why I'm at this party is because I haven't laid eyes on Queen Hermia for two years…" I trailed off, swallowing. I stopped my pacing. "By the way, have any of you seen just how _intense_ her eyes are? Sure, she prefers those crazy open-eyed masks, but I've seen some maskless people before…and never have I seen eyes quite like hers."

I paused.

"They…they _see_ you. I should know; my profession centers around…being seen. But Hermia…that's the first thing I noticed about her. Other than the fact that she appeared out of thin air, of course.

"I was bloody nervous coming back here, you know," I said, chuckling weakly. "Hermia's very perceptive, and I was right in guessing that she would see right through my…_charming_ disposition. I really didn't know what to say to her after two years. We've been through…quite a bit of adventures, and I guess I'm not used to all this grandeur surrounding you." Part of my mind registered that I suddenly directed the speech exclusively to Hermia. "I had so many things to try to explain, and you just make me _forget_ all the intelligent things I have to say. And what I'm trying to say is…why I'm up here…" I waved my hands vaguely towards the table I was standing on. "…I'm trying to say the _one thing_ that keeps being interrupted, either by these other silly important people, or by life-and-death situations, or by my own bloody cowardice."

My breath was becoming shallower, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears. The crowd was rabidly curious now, forced into a breathless silence, but Hermia was the most captivated. Her jaw was locked in concentration, and her eyes were focused utterly on mine.

"Hermia. The fact of the matter is…" I stuttered, hardly able to speak past the panic rising in my throat. "I actually am, well…kind of…in a weird, unpredictable way…It's like…I am. In..._love_. With. You."

The atmosphere changed suddenly from anticipation to silent shock. I saw as Hermia's mouth open and her face blanch in equal astonishment.

My breathing stops altogether, and fear suddenly tightens my throat. Dread, icy cold across my skin, whispers to me how _stupid _this whole thing was. Why, why did I do this? In front of the whole bloody_ city_ no less.

My heart thumps irregularly with terror as Hermia began making her way towards me through the shell shocked crowd, her face expressionless. My legs feel weak as she approaches the table, looking up at me.

She looked almost…_mad_. I swore silently, a silent, pitiful explicative in the back of my head.

Hermia took her red, satin mask off, unveiling the full force of the incredible power of her eyes. I was as frozen as I would be if the Shadows had cornered me and I was facing my imminent death.

And then she jumped up onto the table, making herself level to me. She took off my hat and threw it aside. I still couldn't breathe.

Then she kissed me.

My brain did not register this for a full five seconds. Then the feeling of her soft lips pressing gently against mine jump-started both my heart and breathing. With a ragged gasp, I kissed her back, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her tightly against me. A wild joy surging through my body from my fingertips to my toes as I felt her smile against my own lips.

It felt…right. So bloody, insanely, unbelievably right.

Faintly I heard the room erupt in cheers.

A moment later, Hermia pulled away, staring sternly at me. My heart skipped a beat with insecurity.

"Don't keep me waiting like that _ever again_," she told me, poking me sharply in the chest.

Smiling in relief, I nodded enthusiastically and dipped my head down to catch her lips again.

A beat past, and_ I _pulled back this time. She looked at me in confusion as a broad grin appeared suddenly across my face.

"Oh, don't be such a baby. It wasn't as bad as _me _waiting for _you_ to snap out of it while I was hanging by me neck."

_**FIN**_

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note:**

Oh my god. I don't know what to say.

I'm done.

I'M DONE!!

Okay, okay, I'll pull myself together. This was an insane writing experience. I mean, this is the first long term project I've done. I mean, I've counted.

159 pages.

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY NINE PAGES!! Wow. Just…wow.

I want to thank all of you, all of you reviewers for supporting me. This could not have been done without you guys occasionally giving me the push to update.

I also want to thank Neil Gaiman and Dave Kean for their amazing inspiration. If either of you guys read this and thinks of making a sequel, my email is . ;)

But the person I want to place on a pedestal, the man who continues to support me in whatever I do, the guy who, when I kiss him, it feels "so bloody, insanely, unbelievably right." I love you Dylan. Thanks for luvin me. This whole damn thing is dedicated to YOU.

This is probably the last of my serious fanfiction writing. I'm off to fry bigger fish. Like attempting a novel of my own. (flinches) We'll see.

Oh!! I almost forgot! Check out the soundtrack for Walking on Air. I'll be posting it in chronological order, on my profile page.

I LOVE YOU ALL! THANK YOUUUUU!!


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